Page 175 of Ride the Sky

I reach out and squeeze my father’s hand. “I wouldn’t go back if I could.”

He father nods. “I’m glad to hear it, seein’ as how that man asked me for your hand a second time.”

I let out a rush of breath. “What?”

A light shines in my father’s eyes. “Not that you need my blessing. It’s why I’m so damn proud of you, Fallon.” He pauses, clearing emotion from his throat. “Because you do things your way and damn everyone else who tries to stop you.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I sag against him, feeling like a weight’s vanished from my shoulders. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“I do.” He chuckles. “But the most important question is, does your husband?”

“Man, y’all are breakin’ my damn heart,” I complain. Dust careens up from the south side of the ranch where bulldozers are currently demolishing my Airstream and the surrounding land.

Davis shakes his head. “Kid, we’re doin’ you a favor.”

Crouched down in a tumble of weeds and mud, I stop sanding the fence post. Glance up and frown at my older brothers from their spot next to the training center. “Why are y’all here anyway? Ain’t you got shit to do?”

Christ knows I do. Any second, Rand Younger will be pulling onto our ranch for his annual inspection. No idea how I’m going to react, but I have to face him.

I wish Fallon were here, but it’s more important she talks to Stede. I know if I would have asked, she’d be planted high up in the lodge with a scowl and a sniper rifle.

Ford adjusts his ballcap. “Just supervisin’.”

“Bullshit.” My eyes narrow. “You let me handle it with—”

The crunch of gravel has my brothers tensing. I stand and turn.

A cold, fluttery sensation tugs at my chest when I see the truck coming down the winding road to the training center.

Fuck. I feel like throwing up.

We all watch Younger exit the truck.

A growl comes from Charlie. “Fucking piece of shit.”

I chance a glance at Davis. Fists clenched, face dark as thunder.

“How’s that ulcer?” I ask.

He sighs, needling his temple. “Wyatt.”

“I got this.” I swivel a finger. “All of y’all, stay the fuck back.”

My brothers don’t look happy. Each one chomping at the bit to rip Younger to shreds. I give them one last glare then head across the field.

“Dickheads,” I mutter. At my back, I hear the slam of truck doors. My brothers headed back to the ranch proper.

Dread rises in my chest as Rand Younger makes his way toward me. Fuck. I don’t want to do this. Big. Burly. Threatening. He looks like some asshole with cheap boots and a chip on his shoulder. But as I get closer, I don’t see any recognition on his face.

“Wyatt Montgomery.” I introduce myself, and we shake.

If he remembers me, he doesn’t say it. It pisses me off that he’s probably gone his entire life without bothering to think of me, while I’m the one with this asshole always lodged in the back of my fuckin’ mind.

Younger’s head swivels to the pasture and the training facility. “Nice place.”

“My brother’s,” I offer.

He snorts with derision. “Figured as much.”

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