Page 132 of Downpour

“I’ll get it,” I hollered to Brooke as she finished braiding her hair. I unlocked the front door and pulled it open.

I wasn’t quite sure who I was expecting on my porch this morning, but it wasn’t Cassandra holding a bag. Christian was with her, so I assumed it wasn’t someone’s decapitated head.

“Morning,” I said.

Christian lifted his chin. “Figured we’d catch you and Brooke before the day started.”

I glanced at the oven clock again. “Your day started three hours ago.”

He shrugged. “Brooke here?”

“Who’s at the—” Brooke froze in her tracks when she spotted Cassandra and Christian.

I backed my wheelchair away from the door so they could enter. Brooke was still frozen in place.

“Y’all want coffee?” I asked, trying to break the silence.

“No. This won’t take long,” Cassandra said.

Brooke twisted her fingers together. “Am I fired?”

Cassandra cocked her head. “Why would you be fired? You’ve barely started.”

“I just thought that after last night?—”

Christian put his hand on her shoulder. “Brooke, none of that is on you. Don’t even give it a second thought.”

“So what brings you to my house?” I asked.

Cassandra sneered. “What are you? A swamp ogre who thinks he owns the pond? We live on the same fucking property. It’s not a different continent.” She reached into the bag. “Your jackets came in.”

Brooke edged closer, cautious but curious. “Jackets?”

Cassandra pulled them out and handed the smaller one to Brooke. “You’re part of the ranch now. You get a jacket.” She tossed the other one to me. “You too, Grumpy.”

The smile on Brooke’s face said it all as she tried on the tan corduroy jacket. But my last name stamped on her in the embroidered ranch logo was my favorite part.

She was here. She was ours.

She was mine.

Brooke threw her arms around Cassandra and squeezed. “Thank you!”

Cassandra stiffened. “Alright. That’s completely unnecessary. I’m leaving.”

I laughed.

Christian pulled Brooke into a gentler hug as Cassandra peeled herself away and dashed out the door. “Welcome to the ranch.” His eyes lifted to me. “Welcome back.”

32

BROOKE

The new colt was a handful. I don’t know why I was surprised. His name was Riot.

“Keep your head on your shoulders,” CJ called from outside the arena. “He’s acting like a kid—testing your boundaries. You’re in charge.”

I let out a slow breath and focused on control.

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