Page 4 of Red Hot Rancher

For today, he allowed himself to absolve himself of the anger and hurt he’d been harboring since that fateful night she’d ghosted him. He’d had plenty of time to come to terms with his decision last night, when he and Justin had spent three hours hosing down and washing the horse trailer so her furniture wouldn’t get horse shit all over it and smell like manure.

He didn’t miss her sigh as she hopped down to the concrete.

“You’ve been hauling all morning,” he said. “Why don’t you take a breather?”

She arched a light brow. “Are you going to sit and rest?”

The corner of his mouth hitched. Always with the attitude. But usually only toward him. He’d noticed the difference as a kid. Toward her parents, teachers, and classmates, she was Perfect Brigit. To him—Sassy Brigit. He used to think that meant he was special, but no. The night he’d had his ever-loving mind blown, she must not have felt the same. Her mom had caught them together and Brigit had been done with him. Just like that.

Ancient history, and memories like that had no business surfacing on a day like today. She was hurting and pale and as homeless as he was. Maybe a little less, since Justin’s house was the home she’d grown up in.

The place Caleb had spent most of his childhood in was in a landfill. He was trying to rebuild, but the insurance payout was dismal, and building a house out of town in Moore, Minnesota, was more expensive than he’d thought. He choked back the stress that threatened to rise. He had his ranch, and his buddy Jesse was helping with the cattle.

But the weight of not having an address to call his own descended on him at random moments. Like now, standing outside of a white horse trailer with a mass-produced picture of a fake seaside resting on his boot.

This picture had Joan Walker all over it. He might not have had much to do with Brigit since he was eighteen, but not once had she dreamed about beaches or lighthouses. Blooming alfalfa pastures and pole barns, maybe.

“Here.” He handed Brigit the frame. The whole package only weighed ten pounds and the blanket he’d wrapped it in was less than two pounds. She looked so damn exhausted, he didn’t want her carting another nightstand out on her back.

She took it without argument, proving just how tired she was.

He went back inside. Justin was dragging out boxes from the bedroom and dumping them on the living room floor.

“I want to see it all together,” Justin said. “I want to get everything in one trip so we don’t have to leave Bridge here alone.”

“In case Assface comes back.” He’d never liked Oliver. The guy hadn’t passed up a single opportunity to insinuate that Caleb was a loser for staying in Moore. Then Oliver had moved back, acting like a worldly scholar—one who needed his dad to get him a job.

Justin sneered, his blue eyes flashing. “Bastard won’t get another chance to make her feel like shit.”

Caleb had his issues with Brigit, but Oliver was a controlling, insecure idiot. “And she can’t drive away if he shows.”

Justin nodded. “I wouldn’t put it past him to watch and lock us out before we can get the rest.”

“Yeah, given the power play he pulled with her yesterday.” Last night, Brigit’s sobs resonating from Justin’s phone had made Caleb nearly homicidal. Suddenly, he hadn’t cared one bit how she’d ignored him; he’d only wanted to rush to her side and comfort her. He’d practically begged to help today.

“You can always take the truck and unload it with her,” Justin said. “I can wait here. The jackass won’t try anything with me.”

“That’ll work.” Brigit might have something to say about being alone with him, but her ex would give Caleb more trouble than Justin. He glanced at all the items yet to load. “Is all this going with us?”

“He only paid for what gave him control.” Justin’s expression darkened. “He guilted Brigit into paying for the rest. She worked for me and did online tutoring. Mom and Dad helped her with the rest.”

How had Brigit missed what Oliver was like? Or hadn’t she wanted to know?

Caleb carried the dresser drawers from the bedroom to the living room. The plan was to pack the large items into the trailer and use the smaller stuff like boxes and drawers to fill in the empty spaces between. He dropped his load and ignored the scrappy lace spilling out of it. He had enough Brigit fantasies haunting his life. His adult mind had filled them in with richer details as he’d gotten older. The confirmation wouldn’t help him sleep at night. Because he wasn’t rubbing one off in the borrowed childhood bedroom of his friend while a despondent Brigit lay next door in her old room.

His claim that they wouldn’t have to cross paths wasn’t necessarily true. Justin slept in the master bedroom his brother Travis had vacated when he’d built his own house. The room Caleb was using and the one Brigit was staying in were upstairs. And there was only one bathroom on that level, so…

But he was gone twenty-four hours at a time, so he’d only be tortured during his days off.

The door banged open and Justin jingled the keys. “She’s already in the truck.”

Caleb grabbed the keys and went out. When he climbed into the F-250, Brigit was in the passenger seat with her arms folded, but her standard cool look was gone. Her head rested against the window and she curled into the door as much as her seat belt would allow.

He didn’t know what to say, so he started the engine.

“I bet they’re all wondering what’s going on.” Her voice was small as her gaze touched on each house in the neighborhood.

Caleb followed her gaze. The houses were quiet. No one peered out any window, and there hadn’t been much traffic. From the horse trailer full of furniture, it’d be clear Brigit and Oliver were moving out. It might even be obvious they weren’t moving out together.

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