Page 57 of Orphan Girl's Mountain Men

"This isn't about you," I say too sharply. Her face falls and I realize I've screwed that up. "I mean I'm not holding it against you. You're helping Lennon with Grace. That's fine."

Reed grins. "Don't worry, Hailey. Dean just wants a reason to yell at me. You're ruining his fun."

I sigh. "Actually it's not that. We need to talk. I think last night was a setup."

Reed frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I think Sinclair was behind it."

He nods slowly. "Yeah. That tracks. Sounds exactly like the kind of crap that old bastard would pull. The way the sheriff came storming up here like he already had the story—it fits."

"Walk me through what happened."

Reed shrugs. "Like I said, I went to the bar. Had a drink. This girl comes up to me—young, too young. I turned her down. Said no thanks and left. Next thing I know, her brothers are outside running their mouths, wanting to fight. Then she comes out and tells them I tried to get her into the bathroom. Total lie. Everyone watching—Mattie included—would have seen her come up to me, not the other way around."

"Then why would they lie?"

He shakes his head. "That's the part I don't get."

But I do. Or I'm starting to.

Sinclair's greedy. Always has been. Resents the land I bought being mine. I don't think he even gives a damn about farming. There's been rumors before about how he wants to turn this whole ridge into some kind of getaway resort—cabins, spa, the works, with Hailey's lake as the centerpiece.

This isn't only about Reed.

This is about pressuring us, making the farm look like a liability. One more scandal, one more sheriff's visit, one more legal mess—and suddenly we're not worth the trouble. That's Sinclair's game.

And I've got a feeling he's only getting started.

CHAPTER 21

Hailey

Iglance at the men, who share looks of understanding that seem to warn of an incoming threat. Tense anger simmers in their eyes, and I can tell they're thinking about Sinclair again—the cowboy. I wonder how many times Sinclair has messed with them to instill such visceral loathing, to the point where they automatically assume he has something to do with this setup. His crime has to be something more heinous than what Reed explained. Trying to steal the ranch out from under them was bad, sure, but it didn't seem like it would justify the kind of raw hatred I'm seeing in their eyes.

Plus, as harmless as he might have looked to me at first, there was always something not right about Sinclair. Now that I think about it, I remember that subtle pushiness beneath the southern charm—a kind of greed in his eyes he didn't manage to hide when he talked about buying my land like he was doing me a favor. Classic snake-oil salesman. So yeah, even though I don't know much about the man, I can believe he's setting Reed up. But why? Revenge? To drive the men apart?

If it's that last one, then he seriously underestimated their friendship—because these are the kind of men who'd stick together through hell and high water.

A hint of wistfulness touches me as I think about how much they've been through together—first the military, then the farm, but always living as a unit, almost as a family even. There's a matching hauntedness in their eyes sometimes, and though they rarely talk about it, their trauma shows up in a whole range of subtle ways. The way Reed flinches if someone approaches from behind. The shadows under Dean's eyes. Lennon's discomfort with loud noises. Those days may be gone, but clearly they aren't entirely forgotten. Especially if they were working special ops, like Dean said. That had to be brutal. I wonder what they've had to live through, and how they deal with it all.

Perhaps that's part of why they've chosen to live together—because they've all shared the same or similar past, and so they can look out for each other, balance each other out. I don't think it's only about the farm. Apart from Dean, the other two don't seem particularly devoted to the work. I've seen the accounting sheets. Each of them could go out on their own if they wanted to. They stay because they choose to, not because they have to. Lennon's unrelenting work ethic provides the commitment to getting it done. Reed's mischief and good humor lightens the load along the way. And Dean's vision and leadership keeps it all together—the work, the structure, the safety. It's obvious how much he cares about them, and how much they care about him.

These men have become more than merely best friends. They've become brothers. They are a family.

I often wished I had a close-knit group like that, but I never found it. In Aurora, I never fitted in. In fact I always felt like I was in the wrong place entirely, and looking back, I think I was right. After I started traveling, it became even harder to make friends, because either we didn't speak the same language, or we didn't have time to grow close before one of us moved on. Then, when I got the volunteer post as an elementary school teacherin Sudan, I was surrounded by people from such completely different backgrounds to my own.

All-in-all, it’s made it hard for me to form the kind of deep, lasting bonds I see between these men. I envy their closeness. It reminds me of how it felt with my real parents, the family I no longer have.

The sudden ping of the timer breaks the silence, startling me out of my reverie. Grace announces, "Cupcakes are ready!"

"Hurray," I say. "Let's get them out of the oven." I head over to get the trays from the oven. Still half thinking about my parents and families, I completely forget the number one basic rule of baking—never touch a hot dish with your bare hands. Instead I open the oven door and reach for the tray—completely forgetting it's been sitting at 375 degrees for the past thirty minutes. The instant the metal scorches my skin, I get a very painful reminder.

"Ouch!" I bite back a cry and yank my fingers away. Chaos erupts around me as the men scramble into action. Someone—possibly Lennon—guides me to the sink, while Reed grabs my hand and turns on the tap, holding it under the cold spray. I bite my lip as the water hisses against my burned skin.

"How bad is it?" Dean murmurs, bending over my reddened hand to inspect it.

"It looks like it's going to blister," Lennon says. "But I'll get some ointment on it—it should be fine in a few days."

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