CHAPTER TWO

SAMUEL WINTERS

" I'm not about to lose my family's land to another rich man wanting to buy up Montana. "

Hope's friend drags her away from me, and my muscles twitch from the effort to not tug her back.

Because she's not mine.

And I have to deal with fucking Braden Vanderhorn.

Even his name is pompous, I think, as a grim line of annoyance forms on my mouth.

For the past nine months, he and his business partner, Travis Gibson, have been trying to purchase my property to expand their own. As if fifteen hundred acres isn't enough for them. They don't even keep livestock on the land, preferring to let it sit and showcase their wealth by how much of a getaway from the city they can build.

I've told them time and again that I'm not selling, yet they refuse to take no for an answer.

Harper's Landing has been in my family for over eight decades. Passed down from generation to generation starting with my great-grandpa, Harper, who bought it right after The Great Depression.

I'm not about to break that line.

Though I don't have anyone to leave it to… yet .

An image of Hope pops up before I shake it off.

Too much. Too fast.

Those words ring in my head, the death knell from my last relationship.

"How'd you find Hope?" Vanderhorn's question brings me back to the present where the awareness of ice sticking to my exposed face reminds me it's time to get out of this weather.

"She was in the stables, which last I checked is still on my land," I say pointedly, " She found me ."

"And you decided it was wiser to bring her back on horseback instead of driving?" Suspicion coats his words as his eyes narrow.

"I don't answer to you," I grunt, remounting Star. Either way, it would've been tricky getting back here, but I prefer having more control with a horse that's made to withstand the elements than a car that can slide off a slick road.

Besides, I liked having Hope pressed against my front even with the layers of clothing between us.

Too intense.

"When it comes to those under my care, you do," Vanderhorn argues, lowering his crossed arms and clenching his fists. He must be freezing standing out here without a jacket.

It gives me a little satisfaction. Seeing him so uncomfortable.

I don't like the way he claimed Hope, though. Even if it's brotherly concern on his part.

"Best get inside before you lose something important," I warn, tipping my hat mockingly before turning Star back down the drive.

"By the way, my offer still stands. It's more than generous, and you know it," he calls out.

"I told you already Harper's Landing is not for sale." The words are swallowed by the noisy weather, but I couldn't care less if he hears me or not. We've gone over this numerous times, but he refuses to let it go.

He fails to understand the importance of family legacy versus piles of money in my bank account.

My best friend Heath, who co-owns my other neighbor, Serenity Ranch, had his family's legacy sold by his father to a billionaire. Heath lucked out that the new owner turned out to be a pretty woman the wealthy old man had bequeathed it to. Luckier still that Adeline agreed to marry Heath, and they fell in love.

I'm not about to lose my family's land to another rich man wanting to buy up Montana. It's like our beautiful state has become some sort of playground for the ultra-wealthy. A status symbol.

Gibson needs to control his friend.

Travis Gibson seems like an alright guy if I ignore the fact that he's tied to Vanderhorn. We see each other regularly at Serenity Ranch since he's married to one of the heirs, but that doesn't mean I trust him. Not when his business partner keeps hounding me about selling my land.

The sleet picks up its tempo, making conditions even worse on the ride back, but I welcome the cold. Maybe it'll help my simmering temperature. Annoyance at Vanderhorn. Lust for Hope. They combine to create an inferno of heat despite the chilly elements.

The imprint of Hope's body against mine lingers. Earlier, her soft curves made it difficult to remain unaffected, and her absence hasn't done a damn thing to dispel my current case of blue balls.

Fuck, this isn't good.

When I have chemistry with a person, my mind and body give it one hundred percent of their attention. No hesitation. No half-measures.

This rush of heady connection with Hope? I've experienced it before—though not as intensely.

And it's a real bitch to handle because it never ends well for me.

Because if I've learned anything over the past few years, it's that I'm not meant for relationships.

No matter how committed I am.

Besides, running two businesses is enough to keep me busy, and I've finally managed to get our horse training program in the black after some tough financial years. Now's not the time to pull back to make room for a relationship.

Not with Vanderhorn breathing down my neck about selling.

Not over a woman I barely know.

Who'd probably run the moment I showed my true self.

Exhaling a breath of frustration, I try to clear my mind, which means no more thoughts of the curvy woman with a shy smile.

Star slips as we cross back over onto my land, but I easily remain steady atop her.

God, I love this land.

Growing up, my dad preferred our home in the city and let most of the ranch fall into disrepair. He kept the house up-to-date with the bare minimum necessary for the Christmases and summer vacations we spent here, but it never bothered me. I always felt a connection to the shabby farmhouse.

My great-grandfather built it in 1938—a small two-story home created with his own two hands. I smile as I remember the story of how our family came to this land. It was always told by my grandpa with gusto.

His father saw The Phantom Empire, a film starring Gene Autry as a cowboy who discovers another civilization under his ranch, and apparently, my great-grandfather became enamored with living out west on his own ranch, despite being born and raised in Detroit.

After saving all he could from his job manufacturing cars, he hopped a train west until he found a spot pretty enough to settle, which happened to be in Guardian Valley, Montana.

The rest is history.

My family's legacy.

Five minutes later, I dismount and finish rubbing down Star before closing up the barn and heading home. The weather has decided to take another wintry turn for October, and this sleet will become snow with the diving temperatures.

Tomorrow is going to be hell getting up to care for the horses, but I wouldn't change my life for anything. Moving here and fixing up the place was just what I needed after Tara.

Damn, I don't want to think about her.

Stomping my boots in the mudroom, I shrug off my slicker, a rain of droplets falling to the hardwood floor. I grab a towel kept by the door for such occasions and mop up the puddle before hanging it up again. Afterward, it doesn't take long to start a fire before struggling to figure out what to do with the rest of my night.

This is always the worst time of day—when I'm done with work and alone with my thoughts. It's too easy to backtrack to the past and lament my current solitude.

Sighing, I preheat the oven for a frozen pizza dinner and sit at the kitchen island waiting for it to beep. Howling winds buffet the windows as the sound of ice pinging against the glass increases. It looks like I got back in time before it picked up.

An image of Hope talking to Krueger creeps into my thoughts. I couldn't hear what she said, but when she turned in surprise, I sure as hell saw the tears streaming down her cheeks. I wanted to sweep her into my arms to offer comfort and protection but didn't want to scare her.

Hell, it scared me —the overwhelming urge to go to her when I didn't know her from Eve.

But there it was: an invisible force in my gut tugging me toward her. Thankfully, I'd restrained myself. Redirected the attention to Krueger and his uncharacteristic actions.

He arrived at the ranch after being found on an abandoned property a few towns over. I don't know what happened to him, but he hasn't taken well to me or anyone else, except Hope.

A rueful smile twists my lips as I picture her small stature next to Krueger's height, taming him into a docile companion. I wonder if she'd do the same to me and know instinctively that she could if I let her near enough.

The oven goes off, and I shake that particular yearning off. Like I said, this is why nights suck, too much time to think and dream. Instead, I'm going to eat this pizza and veg out in front of the television while binging Yellowstone .

Is it cliché, a rancher watching a fictionalized show about ranchers?

Maybe, but I enjoy the family aspect and admire the determination they have to keep what's theirs. Minus all the corruption, violence, and downright drama.

I definitely don't need that in my life.