“This is my house.” Val got between Dani and the hall that led to the bedrooms. She looked model perfect for a woman who’d just gotten up. Dani had to wonder if she’d taken a flat iron to her hair before she called the fire department.
“It’s still half mine, Val. Where do you expect me to go?”
“I don’t know. Anywhere but here. Look, Dani, I’m not trying to be a bitch, but there’s nothing left for you here. You should go somewhere else. No one is going to accept you in Willow Fork. Go to Dallas with Finn, and let me buy your half of the house. You’re gonna need the money. It’s what we agreed on in the first place.” Val’s flip-flop tapped on the linoleum.
A heavy weariness permeated Dani’s body. She hadn’t slept much the night before, and the emotional roller coaster of this morning was taking its toll. She was sore, tired, and wanted nothing more than to cry herself to sleep after a nice long shower. “We decided that when I was moving. I can’t move now, Val.”
“Of course you can. It’ll be easy. You don’t even have stuff to pack. You can move to Dallas with Finn. You talked about how much you wanted to do that before Mom died.”
Finn stood in the doorway. Her heart skipped a beat. He was so gorgeous. His shoulders were broad and his body fit, but his face was what always caught her. She’d had so many fantasies about that face cuddling close to hers, those sensual lips saying “I love you” as he worked over her.
“I can’t move to Dallas. I might cramp Finn’s sex life.” Dani saw Finn pale but turned away. He wasn’t hers to comfort anymore. She turned and walked down the short hall. After she slammed the door, she sank to the bed. Though exhausted, it took her the longest time to fall asleep.
Chapter Eight
The bartender opened a small cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Scotch. Julian sighed at the thought of something civilized. He might be at a place called The Barn, but it looked like the Scotch, at least, was a connection to his privileged world.
The bartender set two glasses in front of them and poured out a finger apiece. Julian frowned and slightly shook his head. The fellow was obviously well trained as the line of pure amber liquor went up in Julian’s glass. Beside him, Jackson chuckled lightly.
“You should probably just leave the bottle, Kevin. My friend had his first full day of ranch work. Never been on a horse before.”
Kevin smiled and nodded in a deferential fashion that made Julian believe he was a man who was usually tipped well. “Absolutely, Mr. Barnes. Cigars, sir?”
Jackson shook his head shortly and turned, his eyes flashing around the bar. Samuel slid onto the stool beside him, a smirk on his ridiculously perfect face.
“She’s in the bathroom with Christa. Your cigar habit is still a secret.” Samuel slapped his Dom on the back affectionately and nodded as he was passed a beer.
Julian stared at the two. There was so much about the way their relationship worked that he didn’t understand. For years he simply let it slide, but now he found he wanted to know why Jackson did the things he did. “And you keep this a secret why?”
Jackson took a quick swallow of his Scotch. “I keep it a secret because I married a nurse. She takes particular exception to smoking. It’s why I rarely do it.”
“Then simply tell her to accept it.” That was the way it worked. Jackson was the Dom and Abigail the submissive. That’s what a sub did. She submitted to the will of her dominant partner.
Jackson and Samuel both broke into fits of laughter, further confusing Julian. His muscles ached. He probably had bruises in places where he didn’t want bruises. He now understood why they called it punching cows since he’d given serious consideration to doing just that. Cattle, it turned out, were not very smart creatures. They did not mind and couldn’t care less where they defecated which, at least twice that day, had been on him. He was sick of cows, sick of horses. He was sick to death of feeling like he was the only one who didn’t get the joke. To top off his perfectly horrible day, he’d gotten word from Candice that several threatening letters had made their way into his personal box, and the reporter had called again.
And he missed Danielle. He’d spent the whole day wondering if Finn was taking care of her. This was his vacation. No wonder he’d never taken one.
“Sorry, Julian,” Jackson said, coughing a little. “It’s just there are some things on which our wife is utterly unmovable. My healthy lungs are one of them.”
“Yes, I’d forgotten how vanilla you’ve gotten,” Julian replied, well aware that there was a nasty little tinge to his voice. “Abigail took your balls as surely as Samuel paid someone to take his.”
“Hey! My balls still work perfectly,” Samuel stated. “The boys still jingle. They just don’t jangle anymore, if you know what I mean.”
He didn’t. He was pretty sure he didn’t understand anything. Scotch. He understood Scotch. He took a sip. The smoky flavor was a pleasant sensation as it burned slightly down his throat. “I would have dismissed you had you done that as my slave, Samuel.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” Samuel leaned forward and grabbed the bottle. He refilled Jackson’s glass and did the same for Julian. “You would have done exactly what Jack did. You would have tanned my ass red.”
A little smile curled Jackson’s lips up, making him softer, younger looking. “Well, I spanked you until you actually used your safe word.”
“Damn straight I did. Only time I’ve ever used my safe word. He was pissed at me.”
Jackson turned to his partner, his voice deepening. “I wasn’t pissed that you had done it. I was pissed that you hadn’t told me. I hadn’t approved of the doctor. I hadn’t checked out the procedure. If you ever do anything like it again, you won’t come for a month. You’ll take care of me, but there will be nothing for you.”
“Oh, are we talking about Sam’s balls again?” Abigail frowned as she slid onto the stool next to Samuel. “Are we ever going to stop talking about this?”
“You, too. You won’t come either. Never again.”
Abigail looked around both of her husbands and gave Julian a saucy wink. “He spanked the hell out Sam, but ten minutes later he was holding a bag of frozen peas to Sam’s swollen balls. Did you know they can swell up after surgery?”
Both of her husbands shuddered, but Julian couldn’t miss the way Jackson’s hand slid over Samuel’s neck, or how Abigail’s hand found Jackson’s, connecting the three of them. For a moment, Julian was sure they were the only three people in the universe, in their minds. Their easy intimacy staggered him. The look in their eyes made him avert his own.
Perhaps this had been a terrible mistake. He wasn’t cut out for intimacy. He sipped his Scotch as they talked, nodding when it seemed appropriate, but his mind was far away. Sitting with Jackson, Samuel, and Abigail made him feel like he was twelve again, watching families eat together, fathers playing with sons, mothers clucking over their babies’ welfare. He remembered vividly watching from the back of his limo as parents walked their children into school. Even on the first day, every year he’d been alone. Until Candice had come, even his nannies simply told the driver where to take him and where to pick him up. Poor little rich boy.
Yes, perhaps it was time to go home.
“Come on, baby, let’s dance.” Samuel took her hand and led her away, leaving Julian alone with Jackson.
“I know what you’re about to say.”
“Ah, so you’re a mind reader now, Jackson.”
“Nope, I just know you. You’re about to tell me that this was all a mistake and thanks for the invite, but you should get back to Dallas in the morning.”
Julian’s hand tightened on his drink. That had been precisely what he’d planned to say. He’d trained Jackson far too well. “I don’t believe I’m cut out to be a cowboy. I make a much better billionaire playboy.”