Mila and I sit at the water’s edge, letting the warmth of the rocks keep us comfortable against the chill of the lakewater that brushes against our feet. I pick up a smooth, round stone and sidearm it across the glassy water, where it skips several times before finally sinking beneath the blue waters.

I took Mila back up to the top of the cliff to grab our clothes, but I’m still just wearing my briefs because there’s nothing I hate quite as much as wearing wet jeans. Mila’s got on the pair of leggings and the white blouse she was wearing when I “kidnapped” her from the park, but I my dick stirs every time I remember she doesn’t have any underwear because I shredded them and left them in the lake.

The sun’s setting somewhere out of view behind all the trees peppering the hilltop to the west, but we have a clear view of the pink and orange sky it’s causing. “Nobody ever said you had to see the sun to enjoy a sunset,” I say.

“My dad would’ve disagreed,” she says, pulling her knees up to hug her arms around herself. She looks out over the water, looking absolutely beautiful in her vulnerability. Wet hair hangs in softly curling clumps around her pert little face, and I can’t stop looking at those pouty lips. Just the sight of them fills my mind with the memory of how sweet they tasted against mine and the fear that I’ll never be able to stop wanting more.

So much for mourning my dad.

Feeling anything but sadness and anger after his death feels like a betrayal, but as much as I try, I can’t keep the happiness from seeping through it all when I’m around Mila.

“What’s he like?” I ask. “Your dad.”

She works her lips to the side, watching the water while she thinks. “He’s like the kind of dad most kids probably think they want. Strong. Involved. Respected. You know? All his friends can never stop telling me how lucky I am to have a father like him.”

“But they’re wrong,” I say, taking a guess.

“Yeah.” She pulls her legs in tighter, resting her chin on top of her knees. “I shouldn’t even complain. I must sound so obnoxious right now,” she says, suddenly untucking herself and snapping out of the state she was in. “You just lost your father and I’m over here complaining about mine.”

“No. It’s okay. I asked, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. I guess you did. It just doesn’t sound that bad when I think about saying it out loud. I mean, he always wanted me to be something else. I guess that’s it. My whole life I knew I wasn’t living up to his expectations. I knew he had all these ideas and dreams and plans for the kind of woman I’d become, and maybe for a while I tried to believe I wanted it too. But I didn’t. I never did. So I guess it was just hard. It was hard to look at my dad, whom I respected and loved, and know I was going to disappoint him, and not because I was doing something bad or wrong, but just because I was going to do what felt like it was right for me.”

She laughs at herself, shaking her head a little. “Like I said. It’s stupid. Silly, even. He’s a nice man. A good man.”

“It’s not stupid,” I say. “If we’re being honest, I spent a lot of time idolizing my old man. Feels shitty to say anything but praises after he’s gone, but he wasn’t perfect. You said your old man wanted you to be something you didn’t want to be, I guess I can relate in a way. My brother was always into finances and business and never cared a lick for taking care of the farm. Maybe since my mom had me for the first five years my dad never cared about me as much as my little brother, but it was like he resented me for being the man he wanted him to be.”

She looks at me strangely, almost like she’s seeing through all the walls I’ve spent years building up. She’s seeing beyond all the bullshit--she’s seeing me for the first time. The real me. The feeling gives me a cold shiver because feeling opened up to her like that makes it seem like I understand her, too. I understand how we’re so fucking different but still the same, and how I could spend a lifetime without ever meeting another woman like her.

Her eyebrows draw down suddenly and she hops up. “Oh shit. Oh shit!” she yells, putting both hands to her head. “Tonight. I was supposed to work tonight. What time is it?”

I stand up, nodding toward my truck at the top of the cliff. “Phone’s in the truck. But the sun sets around seven thirty this time of year.” I feel a faint twinge of guilt. Damn. I said I’d meet Cynthia at my place at seven. Knowing her, she probably showed up fifteen minutes early, too. I probably should at least show up.

We make our way up the hill and the bubble we were in seems to have burst. The silence that comes now isn’t entirely comfortable. I help Mila into the passenger seat of my truck and hop in the driver’s side.

“Where do you need me to take you for your job?” I ask.

“The bed and breakfast--Frank and Martha’s,” she adds, as if I don’t know Frank and Martha run a bed and breakfast.

“No problem,” I say. “I would apologize for making you late for whatever you have to do, but I would do it again if I had the chance.”

She laughs a little, but there’s something off in the sound of it. I glance over at her and see her watching the trees outside the window roll by with a distant expression.

Well damn. Did I strike a nerve when we were talking without realizing it?

I pull up in front of Frank and Martha’s after a quiet drive and throw the truck into park. “I’ll have to kidnap you again sometime,” I say lightly.

“Yeah,” she says, flashing a smile that fades too quickly to be real.

“You alright?” I ask as she steps out of the truck and looks back at me through the open window.

“Yep. Perfect. I really need to go though,” she says, turning without so much as a goodbye and jogging to the front door of Frank and Martha’s.

I frown after her. Once I see she’s safely inside, I drive off toward my place.

“What the hell did I do?” I ask out loud, but the only answer is the hum of the truck engine and the whine of worn out shocks as I tear through the darkened town toward my property.

I’m not surprised to find Cynthia’s car isn’t in the driveway when I get home. It’s half past eight and even she isn’t crazy enough to wait around that long. But there is a car in my driveway. My brother Ronnie’s ridiculously clean, jacked up truck that has probably never been off a paved road since he bought it.

I find him lounging on my front porch with a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. He takes me in as I climb the steps, ashing the cigarette on my porch and blowing out a cloud of smoke.

“Late night?” he asks.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask.

“What? Am I not welcome anymore? Dad leaves this place to you and suddenly I can’t even come visit?”

I open the front door and flick on the lights, wishing he would just get lost. The last thing I want to deal with right now is my whiney little brother. “Was there something you wanted?”

“There’s a lot I want,” he says, and the pause that follows is enough to give me a chill. I glance over my shoulder at him to find his eyes are set on the starlit fields outside the kitchen window. “A whole hell of a lot, but I guess we don’t all get to have everything, do we?”

“No,” I say, grabbing a beer from the fridge and offering him one.

He snags it without a thanks and twists the cap off the bottle. “But we could have it all. You and I.”

I take a long swig of the beer. “Right. If I sold this place off to some oil company?”

“Why are you so against it? This is just fucking dirt and wood, Lucas. Yeah we grew up here, but who needs memories when you have more money than God and you can make new ones. Better ones.”

“I’ve got all the money I need. Give me enough cash to keep beer in the fridge, pay the bills, and buy a pie down at Mavericks from time to time and I’m fucking golden.”

He scoffs, pacing around the kitchen. “Sometimes I can’t believe we came from the same DNA pool.” He throws back a long swig of his beer and flicks his cigarette out the open door, where it lands and smolders on the porch. “Look, Lucas. I’m going to be straight with you. I want the ranch. You can either do the smart thing, or you can piss me off and see what happens.”

“You’re pretty brave to come out here alone at night making threats,” I say, setting my beer down with a loud clank on the counter.

“Who said I was alone?”

My eyes catch a flicker of movement outside the window. Maybe it was just a shadow--it’s too dark to say--but something in my gut tells me he’s not bluffing.

“You hired some thugs to kick the shit out of me?” I ask, shaking my head in disbelief. “Doesn’t matter what you do, Ronnie. The ranch stays off the market as long as it’s in my name. And it’s in my name unless I sign it away.”

“No,” he says with a sick grin. “That’s not entirely true. The ranch stays off the market as long as you’re alive. But hey,” he says, setting his beer down and stepping toward the door. “Accidents happen, right? Just ask dad.”

“You fucking--” I start toward him, but two men in black flank him at the door, and judging by the way they’re half-reaching for their hips, they’re both carrying guns.

“Let’s head out,” he says. “I think he got the message for now.”

Ronnie pauses before getting in his car. “Take some time to think it over. All I want is half. Sell the ranch, give me half, and we’re golden. Or you can keep being a prick. Your choice.”

“Fuck you,” I growl, stomping on his still-glowing cigarette.

He mock salutes me and hops into his truck, followed by his black-clothed goons.