Page 10 of Broken Roads
Sawyer clutches his chest in mock hurt. "You wound me, Walker. Good thing not everyone around here is blind to my charms." He straightens, his expression shifting to something that immediately puts me on edge. "Speaking of which, I met the new girl when I was coming in. Ruthie was showing her around."
My hand stills on Max's coat for just a second before I force it to continue moving. "That so."
"Hailey, right? She's something else." Sawyer whistles low. "Not what I was expecting at all."
I keep my eyes fixed on Max, but I can feel tension creeping back into my shoulders, pulling the muscles tight. "Don't get any ideas, Reid. She's here to work, not to be your next conquest."
"Hey now, I'm just making observations." He raises his hands in surrender, but that grin is still there. "Professional observations. About how she seems smart. Andcapable. And happens to fill out a pair of jeans in ways that should probably be illegal in at least three counties."
I slam the brush down into the nearby bucket hard enough that Max startles, snorting and sidestepping away from me. The sharp clatter echoes through the stable, and even Bandit scrambles to his feet, ears pricked forward in alarm.
"Fuck, Bradley." Sawyer straightens, his easy demeanor faltering for the first time. "What's got into you?"
"Nothing." The word comes out sharper than I’d like. I move to Max's head, running a hand down his neck to settle him, but my touch is still too rough, too agitated. "Just don't need you sniffing around her like some damn dog in heat."
Sawyer's eyebrows climb toward his hairline. "Sniffing around? I introduced myself and made polite conversation. Last I checked, that wasn't a crime in Montana."
I can feel his eyes on me, studying my face with the kind of attention he usually reserves for injured horses or broken equipment. Sawyer's got an annoying talent for reading people, seeing past the walls they put up. It's served him well over the years, knowing when to push and when to back off. Right now, I wish he'd just back the hell off.
"She's not staying," I say, moving to unlatch the stall door. Max needs to get out to pasture anyway, and I need space to breathe. "Soon as she realizes what ranch life actually entails, she'll be running back to whatever city spawned her."
"You seem awfully sure about that." Sawyer steps aside as I lead Max out of the stall, but he doesn't let the subject drop. Never could leave well enough alone. "What makes you think she's a runner?"
The question hits too close to home, dredging up memories I keep buried deep. Claire's face the morning she left, resignation mixed with something that might have been pity. "You'll never leave this place, Bradley. And I can't stay and watch it swallow you whole."
"Experience," I say curtly, leading Max toward the stable doors.
Sawyer falls into step beside me, Bandit trotting along at our heels. "You know, most people would call that prejudice."
I stop so abruptly that Max bumps into my shoulder. "Most people don't know what they're talking about."
"Maybe not." Sawyer's voice has lost its teasing edge, gone serious in a way that makes my stomach clench. "But I know you, Bradley. And this isn't about her being from the city. This is about you being scared."
The words steal the very breath from my lungs. "I'm not scared of anything."
"No?" He crosses his arms, fixing me with that steady green gaze that's always been able to see too much. "Then why are you out here brushing a horse that doesn't need brushing instead of in there figuring out how to work with someone who might actually be able to help this place?"
"Because she doesn't belong here." The words tear out of me, raw and angry. "We've survived droughts and market crashes and every other damn thing life's thrown at us. We don't need some outsider with a fancy degree. We don’t need anyone."
Sawyer is quiet for a long moment, examining my face. Then he shakes his head slowly. "You really don't see it, do you?"
"See what?"
"That you're so busy protecting this place from change, you might just protect it to death."
I want to argue, to tell him he doesn't know what he's talking about, but something in his expression stops me cold. There's no mockery there, no teasing grin. Just the kind of quiet certainty that comes from watching someone make the same mistakes over and over.
"That's enough," I growl, tugging on Max's lead rope. The horse follows willingly, probably grateful to escape the tension crackling between Sawyer and me.
But Sawyer doesn't take the hint. "Your dad's worried, Bradley. More worried than he's letting on. And maybe, just maybe, this girl is exactly what the ranch needs."
I push through the stable doors into the afternoon heat, squinting against the sudden brightness. The sun sits lower now, casting long shadows across the yard. In a few hours, it'll be time for dinner, time to sit around that table and pretend everything's fine while she watches us with those sharp hazel eyes, cataloging our failures.
"Dad can worry all he wants," I say, leading Max toward the near pasture. "Doesn't change the fact that we've been running this place just fine without help."
"Have we?" Sawyer's voice is quiet behind me, but it carries. "Because from where I'm standing, fine looks a lot like barely hanging on."
I stop at the pasture gate, my free hand gripping the metal latch so hard my knuckles go white. Max nickers softly, sensing the tension radiating off me in waves. Even the damn horse knows I'm wound too tight.
