Branded (21 page)

But reality came quick. The cool morning air soon licked at her skin and all that Carol had said pricked at her mind. She opened her eyes. With a groan, Deacon eased his fingers from her tight sheath and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I think someone has made his decision,” he said, looking at her with a strange combination of eagerness and dread.

She clung to him. “Are you sure you want to know what it is?”

“Yes,” he said tightly.

Her heart shrank to the size of a pea, but she pushed the feeling aside. Had she actually thought that with the release of his secret would come the demise of his goal?

Oh, foolish, foolish girl.

She didn't know what to do. Not with so much
up in the air, so much undecided. But she did know that there were no answers to be found here.

This time, when she eased herself away from him, he let her go.

“I think it's time to head home to River Black, Deac,” she said softly.
Leave the fantasy here.
“Face what needs facin'.” Then she turned and started swimming toward the pool steps.

“You didn't have to do this,” Sheridan told James as he drove her Subaru a little too fast out of the town of River Black and toward the Triple C Ranch.

“It's no problem,” he said, giving her a cool smile. “You needed your car.”

He seemed to be the man of cool smiles, smiles that didn't exactly reach his eyes. “I know. But I could've had AAA or even the towing company in town bring it to me.” Honestly, it was a nice gesture, and she appreciated it. But she wasn't exactly sure how to take it. She wasn't used to people doing anything
just to be nice
, and as she opened her window and let the warm morning breeze blow over her skin, she wondered if James Cavanaugh had an ulterior motive.

“Listen,” he began as if he'd heard her thoughts. “You're Deacon's assistant, which makes you part of the family in a way. And we take care of our own out here.”

She turned to him, took in his masculine profile and hard jaw with its sprinkling of stubble. “I didn't know Mr. Cavanaugh and his brothers were so close.”

His eyes cut to her for a moment, and Sheridan felt her chest go tight. They were honest to God the most stunning eyes she'd ever seen.

“Maybe not so much now,” he admitted. “But we were.”

Sheridan itched to ask him more about it. For years, Deacon had been tight-lipped about his family and why they were estranged. Even the death of his father had been a quick, emotionless conversation. She'd never understood that part of his life, and maybe she really shouldn't as his employee. But being out here, in the sticks as James had put it, made her incredibly curious about his life pre-mogul.

Especially now that she'd met one of his brothers.

“Get a lot of work done last night?” James asked, drawing Sheridan's attention back to the present.

“I did.” After James had taken her to the Feed and Tack, made sure the hotel down the street had a reservation for her—even asked her if she'd like him to bring her some dinner from the diner across the way—he'd left. Sheridan hadn't been hungry, just eager to continue her work. Which hadn't gone all that smoothly as her mind kept bringing up images of a certain horse rider.

She'd have to watch that.

“Your brother has major issues with organization,” she said, trying to introduce some light humor into their conversation.

“Bet you don't,” James returned.

Her chin lifted automatically. “Absolutely not.”

He chuckled softly. “I'd like to be more organized in my business.”

“Maybe you need to hire more help.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I'd be happy to show you a few things while I'm here if you'd like,” she answered.

“That's kind of you, Sheridan,” he said, turning into the long Triple C driveway. “But I'm not sure I'll be staying on for very long.”

Sheridan felt a trace of disappointment move through her, and she shoved it away. “Need to get back home? To your work?”

He smiled. “Yes and yes.”

“To a woman?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Panic jumped in her blood. She wanted to sink into the seat. What was wrong with her?

James's slid his dreamy, ocean-blue gaze her way. “No woman.”

Good Lord, that look had her chest tightening. Had her feeling like taking a breath wasn't as easy as it should be.

“I'm very sorry,” she mumbled, mentally rolling
her eyes as they headed over the rise toward the main house. She hoped he wouldn't mention this to Deacon. “That was absolutely none of my business.”

For the first time since they'd got in her car back at the Feed and Tack, James didn't answer right away. His eyes forward, hands fisting on the steering wheel, his focus had been completely stripped from her and was homing in on something ahead of them.

“What the hell?” he uttered, lifting his chin.

“What's wrong?” Sheridan followed his line of vision and saw several semi-looking trucks parked on the grass near the fence line.

There looked to be eight or so.

“Did someone order new furniture?” she asked.

“That's not furniture,” James said, stepping on the gas, his tone more serious than she'd ever heard it.

He came to a stop behind one of the trucks, killed the engine, and tossed her the keys. He was out of the car in seconds. Sheridan followed, hurrying after him as he strode toward an older man in a Stetson, a very handsome younger man with bulging muscles, close-cut blond hair, tattoos, a black eye, and a busted lip and what appeared to be one of the truck drivers.

James headed straight into their semicircle. “What's going on?”

The driver spoke first. “We have 'bout a
hundred mustangs to place with y'all. Just waiting to unload.”

James turned to the blond man. “Cole? Talk to me.”

The inked-up man shrugged. “Seems our foreman signed off on moving these wild horses from their temporary shelters to Triple C property.”

Standing back a few feet, Sheridan could actually feel the tension rolling off James. She didn't know what had happened, but she did know that Mackenzie Byrd was the Triple C's foreman.

“This ranch might be sold,” James said to all three of them. “Or shit, maybe even demolished. What's going to happen to them if that's the case?”

“Look, partner, the order's been signed,” the driver said. “If there's a problem, take it up with the Bureau of Land Management.”

As the man walked away to confer with the other drivers, James turned to Cole and shook his head. “Mackenzie.”

Cole nodded. “Seems like. Deacon told me before he left that they were going to fight each other on this. Any way they saw fit. Mac's always been a fighter. One of the many reasons Cass looked up to her.”

Cass. Sheridan had heard that name before. A long time ago. She was Deacon's sister. The one who'd been abducted back when they were kids. Sounded like she and Mackenzie were close friends.

“Speaking of fighters,” James began, eyeing the man and his black eye. “Remind me later to ask you what the hell happened to your face.”

“What are you talking about?” Cole said, moving his head from side to side. “I'm as pretty as ever.”

“Listen, James,” said the older cowboy, who'd been quiet up until that point. “They got nowhere else to go.”

“Come on, Sam,” James responded.

The man shrugged. “Even if we wanted to send them back, it ain't gonna be today.”

James took a deep breath. “Damn woman. She's using me in this fight of hers. Knows I won't sell—thinks I won't sell—if there's horseflesh involved. Fighting dirty with Deacon,” he grumbled. “
A horse! a horse! My kingdom for a horse!
”

“Richard the Third,”
Sheridan blurted out, then wished she hadn't when James's head came around so fast it was almost a blur.

His eyes narrowed on her.

She shrugged. “Sorry.” She should've just gone inside, up to Deacon's room, and finished sorting files instead of following his brother into whatever problem had just arisen, eavesdropping.

James's eyes changed from firecrackers into a look of supreme curiosity and wanton heat.
“Richard the Third,”
he confirmed. “You know it.”

She shrugged gently. “A true conflict between good and evil. In the mind and heart of one man.”

He just stared at her; so did all the other men.

“Who's this?” Cole asked.

“Sheridan O'Neil,” James told him. “Deacon's assistant.”

“Lucky Deac,” Cole said with a killer grin that had to make every woman who was on the other end of it unsteady in both body and heart. “Nice to meet you, Sheridan.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cavanaugh. It's good to meet you too.” She smiled back, then turned to James. “If you'll excuse me, I'm going to the house.” She started away. “Work to do.” She waved without looking back. “Have a good day, everyone.”

As she hurried forward, her heart beating far too fast in her chest, she could feel his eyes on her. It was strange. Him and her and whatever had just passed between them. But it was something better left alone. James Cavanaugh was the brother of her employer, not a man to palpitate over.

She was nearly to the front walk when she felt his searing gaze pulled from her, and his voice call out, “Let's get 'em unloaded, boys.”

•   •   •

The flight home in the
Long Horn
had been a quiet one, as was the ride to the Triple C in his truck. Deacon knew his mind was overrun with thoughts of the night before, of Mac's anger and tears that morning, and of Blue's possible acceptance of his offer. But his heart was trying to push its way in
there too, force him to look at the effects of his actions if he truly followed through on his plan to destroy the ranch.

He pushed it back.

His jaw tightened. He needed this. Needed it to move on with his life. Needed it to breathe normally again.

Beside him, listening to the radio and staring out at the sun setting brilliantly over the rolling hills and sheets of man-made lakes, Mackenzie was clearly deep in thought as well. She'd noticed the shift in his mood after Carol's news and the return phone call where Blue had requested a face-to-face meet to discuss Deacon's offer. She'd seen his soft, vulnerable side sink back beneath his skin and the calculated beast inside of him rise to the surface.

As they pulled into the Triple C, drove under the sign, he reached out and took her hand. It was warm and soft, and when she gripped him back tightly, he felt a surge of worry cross his heart.

“You all right?” he asked, heading up the easy hill.

She stared straight ahead. “No.”

Fuck
. “Ah, Mackenzie . . .”
Please don't
.

She turned to face him, a panicked look on her beautiful face. “Let's not go in, Deacon. Let's turn around and go to town, or the cottage. Or we could go for a ride. Me on Gypsy and you on Trouble.”

“Hey, hey . . .” He pulled to a stop in front of the house and killed the engine. “Please calm down.”

But she didn't. Not even a bit. “Don't do this,” she said breathlessly, her face pale and drawn, her eyes wide with worry. “Don't go in there.”

He hated her words and the fear in her eyes. Goddamit. He wanted to give her everything, everything she desired and needed. Anything that would make her smile again. But he couldn't give her this. “Honey, I just want to hear what the man has to say.”

“No, Deacon . . .” She shook her head disbelievingly.

“It's true. I owe him that.”

She turned from him, took a deep breath and let it out. “We both know it doesn't matter what he says.”

“Come on, Mac—”

“No.” She popped her seat belt. “You're immovable, Deacon, utterly and completely committed to this cause, and I'm sayin' don't do it. Your obsession with this place—”

Ire moved up his spine. “There's no obsession, Mac,” he said tightly. “I just want it gone. I need it gone.”

She shook her head. “I don't think so. I don't think that's what you really want. I've been going over and over this in my mind the whole way home. I think you actually want to save it, the Triple C—”

“That's ridiculous,” he interrupted with a bitter laugh.

“It's not,” she insisted, facing him again, her eyes imploring him. “Destroying this place goes against everything you've ever told yourself you wanted. Everything you've told yourself you need to do to move on with your life.” Her eyes softened and she gave a small shrug. “That's where I came in. You were going to let me fight to save this place, even encouraged me to.”

Deacon's jaw hardened along with his heart at her words. “I pushed you to fight because you wanted to save it as badly as I wanted to destroy it. I respected that, and I supported you because that's what you do for the person you love.”

She gasped, her head drawing back and her eyes going wide. Deacon wasn't shocked at himself for saying it out loud, for admitting it. Hell, he knew what was happening to him, even before she knew the truth—what he felt every damn time he looked at her. How much he'd wanted to keep her at his place, hear her call it home. Their home. He wanted her in a way that both thrilled him and scared the shit out of him.

“You love me?” she asked, finding her voice.

“Yes. Hell, yes. You know I do.”

Her eyes searched his. “And yet you still want to do this?”

He ran a worried hand through his hair. “My
love for you has nothing to do with my hatred for this ranch. One is new and beautiful and fresh and clean, and the other is in my mind and my bones and my blood—and fuck, on the back of my shoulder—making me ache, making me sick. That won't go away until this ranch goes away.”

Pain moved across her eyes and she released a breath. “I know you believe that, honey,” she said softly, gently. “I know you do. But it's just not true. You're only destroying the thing that represents your pain. It'll never go away unless you let it, unless you forgive.”

Deacon recoiled. “Forgive?”

“That's right.”

“And who should I be forgivin', Mac?” he ground out.

“Your mother . . .”

“No.”

She bit her lip. “And Everett.”

“Christ! Never!” He turned away, then turned back, glared at her. He'd thought she understood. With all he'd told her, all he'd revealed, he'd believed she might walk away from her own crusade and let him have his vengeance.

“They're gone, Deacon,” she continued. “What is there to destroy?”

“Just stop, Mackenzie,” he warned.

But she wouldn't. “I know what you've suffered, and I hate them both for putting you through
it. I don't idolize Everett anymore, and shit, I don't even need this ranch to feel like I'm home. But I love you, and if you do this, it won't end your pain. It'll grow it.”