23. Bishop

I'mup against the stable door with Porter's mouth against my throat. "Any more of this, and I'm not gonna make it into town."

"Maybe that's not such a bad thing," he growls against my ear, then takes my mouth again in a heated kiss that makes my toes curl. Nothing will ever compare to the way Porter's lips move against mine.

Ever since a couple of nights ago at the stream, things have been sweeter between us. And hotter. Way hotter. The heated looks, furtive smiles, and secret meet-ups have nearly done me in. But I also know my time is limited—as is Porter's patience. I need to tell my parents, even if it means disappointing them. Somehow that's not worse than disappointing Porter. Not after what he shared with me. How much he was hurting, how he opened to me and helped me see inside him.

When his hands find my waistband, I break the kiss and place my hands firmly on his shoulders. "Oh no you don't. You'll just have to owe me one."

It's after dinner, and I'm seeing Aimee off before heading to the Laurel Springs council meeting to help represent the ranchers in a dispute over water pipes. Changing the ordinances is an issue we're keeping our eye on because it could affect the drainage on our land and make it more prone to flooding. Never a dull day in the ranching business.

But I have a feeling Porter only cares about the part where I'm saying goodbye to my ex before she travels back to her husband and life. We had a nice chat when she was here for lunch, and it only solidified the idea that we were never right for each other. But it was so good to catch up with her because I missed her friendship, and she's one of the only people who understands what my life is like and how much pressure I feel on a daily basis.

A couple of horses nicker. "See?" I tell Porter. "Even Storm knows I'm right."

"Or maybe he wants you to stay."

I chuckle. "Doubt that. He only has eyes for you."

As he steps away, he mutters, "At least somebody does."

His cheeks are red, which tells me Porter feels insecure, something I rarely get from him. I try for humor. "How dare you say that after my mouth performed miracles on your dick?"

Porter rolls his eyes. "I think miracle is giving yourself a little too much credit."

"Liar." I snicker as I straighten my clothes and fuss with my hair. "I like that you're just putting it out there—your feelings. More of that, please."

His eyes dim briefly with the familiar hint of fear filtering through.

I grip his shirt and pull him toward me. "Stop."

His eyebrows knit together. "Stop what?"

"I see your brain spinning on all cylinders. We'll figure this out together, remember?"

He makes a frustrated sound. "What does that even mean, though? You're not out to your parents, and the guys will only think you're favoring me."

"I am favoring you." I kiss his cheek. "Your eyes and lips and voice are my favorites."

His eyes soften briefly before they clear.

"And I do plan on telling my parents." In fact, it might be time to follow through on my dream to build something of my own on the land, close enough to enjoy the mountain view and far enough to be completely private.

"How about Aimee?" His tone is the same as when I rode out to him at the stream. I'll admit I enjoy the jealousy, or maybe possessiveness is the better word, but I also hate hurting him.

"For your information, she's always known."

He stiffens. "What are you talking about?"

"When she came to the ranch for lunch, she asked me if I told you."

"Told me what?"

"How heartbroken I was when you left." I almost leave out the other part, but secrets aren't a good idea, so I just let it fly. "And how I was in love with you."

I avert my eyes because those words are overwhelming, and my heart is going haywire as it is. When Porter doesn't say anything, I look at him. He's standing motionless, staring at me.

"What? It was a long time ago and?—"

"Were you?" His voice is hoarse. "In love with me?"

"Hmm, I think the word love is giving yourself a little too much credit," I say, lobbing his previous words back at him. "Oh, look at the time, gotta go."

I hear him chuckle as I pull open the stable door and slip out. He doesn't follow me, as I knew he wouldn't. We try not to show up in the same places at the same time if we can help it. No doubt he'll stay and give Storm and Arrow more attention now that I'm gone.

My pulse still hasn't calmed down by the time I get to my truck and on the road. Not only am I still half hard, but in shock at what I'd shared with him. He just seems so vulnerable when it comes to Aimee, so I thought it was important to keep reminding him where we stand. Or at least, where I do.

There's a truck pulled over on the side of the road, and though I'm already running late, I want to be neighborly too. So I slow down to see if they need any help. My breath catches at seeing two familiar faces. No wonder the maroon color seemed familiar. The horse bumper sticker should've been the first clue, but I'd been a bit preoccupied.

I unroll the passenger window, and Randy reluctantly does the same on the driver's side.

"Having car trouble?" I ask.

"Mr. Bishop—" Pixie begins, but Randy shuts her down with one look.

"Mind your business."

She nods and settles against the passenger seat.

"My check engine light went on, so I pulled over to look under the hood," he rambles. "But everything seems in order."

"Okay, then," I reply slowly, trying to understand why something seems off. "Maybe take it to Burt's shop in the morning to double-check. Could be a tricky sensor light."

He gives me a tight grin. "Will do."

When he rolls up his window, it feels awkward to remain there. I want to suggest I follow them for another mile to make sure he's not wrong, but it's clear he doesn't want my help.

So I go on with my evening, stopping first to see Aimee, but cutting my visit short to get to the council meeting. I arrive at the last minute and take a seat toward the back. I see many familiar faces from other ranches, like the Colemans, whose property borders ours, and it takes me a minute to place the son, who's now grown.

When the topic of the water pipes arises, there's an uproar in the meeting hall. Even though the council president swears the ordinances won't change, we've been blindsided before. The ranch owners stand a few at a time to say their piece and make it crystal clear how any modifications might impact our businesses. By the meeting's end, I'm more than satisfied to walk out with the others. And given the council members' somber expressions, it certainly seems like we were heard.

I'm looking forward to the warm shower awaiting me, but my thoughts drift to Randy and Pixie on the side of the road. Tired as I am, the niggling in my gut tells me it won't hurt to check before I go home. I head to their trailer, and just as I suspected, it's dark. Not one light is on in the residence, and Randy's truck is nowhere in sight.

When I spot a paper taped to the front door, I park and get out, hoping it's not what I think it is. As I read the eviction notice, my stomach drops. If they lost their home, they must be living in their car. I drive around to see if I can spot them, to no avail.

I head back to the ranch with a heavy heart, trying to come up with a solution to help them. My parents are sitting on the porch, enjoying the warmer fall temperature.

"Did you give Aimee our love?" Mom asks as I approach.

"I did," I reply absently.

Dad lifts his chin. "So…how did it play out?"

I blink, having trouble focusing on his question before I remember the council meeting. "I swear it seemed like every single ranch owner showed up tonight."

"Good. I hope it reminded them that our businesses help fund this county." He squares his jaw. "You remember that too."

I roll my eyes. "Do you know how many times I've heard you say that in my thirty years?"

Dad chuckles. "Yeah, I suppose you have."

"Poor thing, being subjected to your father's lectures," Mom teases.

I'm reminded of Pixie and Randy. "I need to talk to you about something."

Dad sits up straighter. "What is it?"

He likely thinks it has to do with the council meeting or gossip after running into one rancher or another, but this is important too.

"On my way into town, I came across Randy's truck on the side of the road. I asked if they needed help, but he swore they didn't."

Dad gives Mom a look. "Okay, so?"

"After the meeting, I went by their trailer to make sure they were all right, and they weren't there."

"Son, we need to steer clear of the private lives of our employees. I told you that. If he saw you, he might've?—"

"There was an eviction notice on the door. It's likely they're living out of that truck."

Dad frowns. "Well, damn, that's unfortunate."

"That poor girl," Mom says. "I hope he didn't spend the rent money on booze."

My eyes flash to Dad's. "So you do recognize it's becoming a problem."

"It might be, yes. But you don't put a man out who needs help."

"I'm not trying to put him out. A couple of warnings is a start, and I have no doubt Wade has taken care of that from his end."

"What else would you propose?" Dad asks pointedly.

"Maybe the suggestion to get help. And that his job will still be here for him if he does."

"But he has a child to take care of." Mom gives Dad a sidelong glance. "And we know how that goes in some families. Will be hard to convince him."

They might not have come right out and said it, but I have a feeling they're referring to Porter's old man.

"So how about we offer Randy an empty bed in the bunkhouse?" I suggest.

At least we'll be able to keep an eye out, in case there's trouble.

Mom's eyes light up. "And Pixie can take one of our spare rooms."

I nod. "Not sure Randy will go for any of that. He's too proud. But maybe Wade can persuade him."