I wondered if I squeezed someone’s head hard enough, if it would pop. I really wanted it to pop. That’s all I could think about as I stared at the spot where my truck had been parked. I wanted to pop someone’s head like a pimple and scream while doing it. Annoyance and frustration worked at my nerves until even the sound of the kids playing on the playground next to me was too much. I wanted to pop their little heads, too.
I blew out a breath. That wasn’t true. The kids were fine. One of them picked that moment to scream and I rubbed the bridge of my nose. The kids were fine. The kids were fine. If I said it enough, maybe I’d stop picturing kicking their playground equipment over like a big bully.
I pulled my phone out of the back pocket of my worn jean cutoffs and dialed my ex-husband. Somewhere along the way, he stopped being just my ex and became my best friend and one of the best ranch hands I’d ever known. Except for that moment. He was quickly becoming my least favorite person, the longer his phone rang without an answer.
When I got his voicemail, I swore, earning me a cross look from one of the mothers walking by me. I tried to smile an apology, but it came out more of a teeth-baring scowl. “Bradley, someone stole my truck. This is a really bad time for you to finally go off the grid. Call me back.”
I dialed the police nextwell, I dialed the sheriff. Barossa, Texas didn’t really have “police” you could call. We had Sheriff Andy Barnes.
When he answered, he already knew what I was calling for. I saw the blinds in his office bend open and his ruddy face appear. “So, someone stole your truck, huh?”
“Did you see it happen and just sit there? Jesus, Andy, what’s happening to this town?”
He scoffed. “Yep. I sat right here and I watched someone jimmy the door lock, climb in, hotwire it, and then drive away.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Andy, now isn’t the time for a lecture.”
“I’m just saying, Miss Lacey, if you’d just lock your damn doors, this kind of thing wouldn’t keep happening.”
“It’s happened one other time! Once. Three years ago. You act like it’s a daily occurrence. Are you going to come out here and do some paperwork on this, or what?”
He sighed and the blinds snapped shut. I could hear their cracking sound clear as day through the line. “I can do it from here. Lacey Holt. Stolen truck. Again. Doors unlocked with the keys hanging in the ignition. Should I send it to the same insurance company?”
I bit my tongue hard and bent over slightly as the urge to kick him in his bad hip hit me. “Yes. Same company.”
“Alright. It’ll get it done for ya. Oh, Lacey?” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Who’s going to tell your daddy?”
“You call him before I get a chance to tell him and I’ll tell your wife that you’ve been having coffee with Susie Whittaker on Sunday mornings.”
He gasped. “When did you turn so mean, Lacey Holt?”
“When people started stealing my truck!” I kicked the asphalt and groaned. “Can you give me a ride home?”
“No, ma’am! Not until I forget that you threatened me, anyway.”
“So, what? I should wait ten minutes and call back?”
His answer was a dial tone in my ear and a suspicious looking finger poking through his office blinds. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that Sheriff Andy flipped me off.
I looked up at the sky and asked for patience as I started the long walk home. I hoped that somewhere along the fifteen-mile walk, someone would find me or Bradley would call me back. I wasn’t keen on walking that far, but there was no way I was calling my dad to tell him that the truck was stolen. Again.
For some reason, men remember those kinds of things more than anything else in the world. I could run our ranch with my eyes closed and my hands tied, but the thing they liked to point out was the onetwotimes I’d gotten the truck stolen by forgetting to take the keys in with me. It was frustrating as hell.
I wasn’t even a mile into the walk when a huge red Hummer flew past me. It skidded to a stop and then backed up to come even with me. I didn’t look up as I walked. I had no interest in the ride or the man in the ride. “No, thanks.”
Franklin Dubrow whistled at me. “Come on, Lace. You look hot out there. Let me give you a ride so you don’t burn that baby-soft skin of yours.”
I was tempted to bend over and grab a rock to throw at his big-sign-of-a-small-dick vehicle. “I said ‘no, thanks’.”
“Baby, it’s a hundred degrees. You’re going to walk the rest of the way home without any water?” Franklin, not Frank, never Frank, leered at me when I glanced up at him. His overly white teeth gleamed at me through his thin lips. “Let me take you home. I’m on the way.”
I tried not to outright glare at him. He was part of the reason I was glad to be taking over the ranch from my dad soon. Dad was too nice to rip up the contract that he’d signed with Frank’s company close to ten years ago. It allowed them use of the hunting club we had at the back of our land and the property it sat on. I wanted to buy out the contract as soon as possible and tell him to go to hell. He gave me the creeps and I didn’t trust him any more than I trusted that his Hummer wasn’t a cry for attention.
“I like the exercise. Enjoy your stay this weekend.”
His eyes trailed down my body, leaving my spine feeling like there were worms crawling on it. “You don’t need exercise, baby. You look perfect.”
I stopped walking and crossed my arms over my chest. “Franklin, keep driving. I’m thinking and I need to be alone to do it.”
He must’ve finally realized that I wasn’t budging, so he gave me a little finger wave and sped off.
I frowned at the tail end of his stupid vehicle and scowled. He was such a pig. His father had run their company before him and he was much nicer. He and Dad had actually been pretty good friends. When Nathan retired and left Franklin in charge, I’d hoped that Dad would sever ties. Everyone knew what scum he was. Leave it to Dad to be nice to even the worst people, though.
I tried calling Bradley again but it went straight to voicemail. I left an increasingly rude message and shoved the phone back in my pocket. Only fourteen more miles to go…
Another three miles and I heard the loud clunking of the ranch truck that Bradley insisted on driving around. It was about a hundred years old and in worse shape than looked safe. He loved it, though. It was the truck he’d lost his virginity in, when he was working at the ranch as a teenager. It wasn’t to me. That had been one of the arguments that plagued our marriage, but charmed our friendship.
He pulled up next to me, his smile wide and knowing. “Hey, there.”
His head. I was going to pop his head. “You didn’t answer my calls.”
“You didn’t lock your truck doors.”
I walked around and yanked on the door. It took me three tries to get the piece of shit open. When it did groan open, empty water bottles and receipts fell out. I glared at him as I leaned down to scoop them back into the truck. “Why don’t you clean this whorehouse once in a while?”
Bradley laughed. “Don’t talk about my baby like that. Just because I wanted her more than you doesn’t mean you get to act all jealous.”
I climbed in and leaned across the console to punch him in the arm. “That’s for not picking up my calls. And this is for that comment.”
He blocked my second punch and quickly turned the truck around and headed back home. “You’re a mean one today.”
“Someone stole my truck. I feel like that gives me all the reason I need to be a little mean.”
“It happens so often, I figured you’d learn to deal with it a little better.”
“I’m going to hit you again.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
I acted like I was going to hit him in the arm and then nailed his thigh instead. “Anything else you’d like to say?”
He winced and rubbed at his leg. “Nope.”
We drove the rest of the way in silence, thankfully. I spent it going over how I wanted to sugarcoat telling Dad. Which was just ridiculous. At twenty-seven, and co-owner of the ranch, I didn’t feel like it was normal for me to be nervous about talking to the man; yet, I was. I still felt like I was five and he’d just tripped over one of my toys whenever I did something stupid.
Bradley pulled into the driveway that led to the house and grinned over at me. “You’re going to be in so much trouble.”
“One of these days I’m going to fire you.”
“Nah. You’d be lost without me.”
I ignored him as I saw Dad sitting on the front porch, his arms crossed over his big barrel chest. His face was red and the hook of his overalls wasn’t fastened properly. “Shit.”
Bradley parked the truck, opened the door, and then chuckled. “I already told him.”
I reached for him but he was too fast. By the time I got out of the truck and halfway around it, he was already pushing into the front door of the house. I’d have to race past my dad to get to him and that wasn’t a great idea. Not with the way Dad was frowning at me.
“You know, Lacey, when you bought that new truck, it came with automatic locks, a button on your keychain to lock it, and even that fancy keypad on the door handle. If you insist on not using them, let me know, so next time we can have the dealership leave them off.”
I pressed my lips together and waited him out. He wasn’t done, yet.
“The insurance went up last time we had to claim a stolen vehicle. They’ll probably cancel us this time. You don’t have time to be going off, tracking down different insurance. It’s almost time to brand the cattle and take them over to the west side of the property. You’re going to be so busy you can’t see straight. Maybe I shouldn’t retire yet. There’s no rush.”
I still didn’t talk. Every time anything happened that he didn’t like he gave me the same speech.
“I’ll just wait a few more years. You’re too young to run a ranch this size by yourself, anyway. Even with Bradley helping you. Hell, sometimes I think especially with Bradley helping you. You two are like children together. Your mom and I don’t have to rush off. I’m not even sixty.”
Still not done.
“You’re good at this, Lace. Damn good. It’s just a lot of work. You won’t have time to settle down. You won’t have time to have a kid of your own. Maybe this isn’t what we should be doing at all.” He hesitated. “Plus, with the article and the pranks…”
That was the new addition to “the talk.” The worst part of any speech he’d ever given me, as far as I was concerned. The part about how some asshole reporter had dragged up an old document about my brother’s death to argue about border control down in the ass end of Texas. The part about how someone thought it was funny to start messing with my family.
I sighed. “Dad, you promised Mom you were going to take her on a vacation. The trip is planned. The tickets are paid for. If you cancel on her, it’ll destroy her. I’m not even going to respond to the rest of that talk because we’ve been over it. I’ve been running this place for the past two years, anyway. Nothing changes, except that I’ll miss seeing you over breakfast for a couple of months. Then, when you get back, you’ll get to sleep in and help Mom in the garden more. You just have to relax. I’ve got this.”
He gave me a look that I didn’t like and then nodded. “I’m going to go sit with your mother. She’s having a bad day.”
My chest tightened. “All the more reason for you to get her out of here, don’t you think?”
He gave me a signature Dan Holt scowl, the same one I’d inherited, and climbed back up the steps to go inside. Before he was out of hearing range, he gave his parting shot. “I don’t think someone who can’t remember to lock a truck should be telling me what to do.”