Laredo glanced at the clock on the display of his truck’s radio. He was only running a few minutes late. He had to drop Bella off at school and pretend that his day was going to be exactly like every other day. Of course, that meant he had to dress in his usual suit even though he wasn’t actually going into the office today.

Running a restless hand through his hair, Laredo made the turn off the main highway onto the smooth gravel road leading to the Hernandez ranch’s main camp. This was where the house and big barns were located. It was where Laredo had grown up. And right now, it was where his oldest brother, Cal, lived in a world where he did not have to go into Denver more than once every other month or so. If Cal even made it into the city that frequently.

Laredo pulled his truck up in front of the barn and shut off the engine. He could see one of the nice new gooseneck horse trailers waiting for him as he’d requested. It was parked in the center of the yard in front of the barn as though Cal had just pulled it up from one of the storage sheds.

Getting out of the vehicle, Laredo stretched to loosen his back. That was about the time Cal came walking out of the barn. Laredo hadn’t actually seen his older brother in over a year. Cal hated coming into the city, and Laredo avoided the ranch like the plague.

Cal looked better than Laredo remembered. Or maybe that was because Laredo looked like hell. The lined face that Laredo saw in the mirror every single morning looked ancient compared to the relaxed visage of Cal Hernandez.

“You look like shit,” Cal told Laredo.

Yep. That was Cal. No reason to pull his punches or sugar coat anything. He called them like he saw them, and he was usually pretty damn on the money. Laredo gave a shrug. “I look better today than I did yesterday.”

Of course, that’s when Cal started walking slowly around the front of Laredo’s company truck. He was eyeing the crumpled fender, the duct taped headlight, and then, of course, the lovely dents on the bed from the garage door.

“Is yesterday when your truck was attacked?” Cal asked, his tone dripping sarcasm. “Because I can absolutely believe that you looked like hell yesterday if that’s the case.”

“Actually, I believe—technically—that the night before last is when my truck was attacked. Yesterday is when I noticed the damage,” Laredo admitted. It wasn’t like there was any point in pretending. “My motorcycle was attacked too. In the garage. It was tragic.”

Cal snorted. He clapped Laredo on the shoulder. “Time to stop drinking. Don’t you think?”

Laredo didn’t respond. He had already told himself that he was going to stop drinking. But there was also a part of him that knew the next time the shit hit the fan, Laredo was going to reach for a bottle. He wasn’t strong enough to stop himself. Besides, what did it matter?

“So, about those horses?” Laredo prompted, trying to remind Cal why Laredo had driven an hour and a half out here when he had more important things to do in the office.

“Where’s Bella?” Cal asked as he led the way into the main barn.

They passed a few stalls, and Laredo could see the occupants dozing inside or munching hay in more of a bored fashion than a hungry one. Then they passed a stall with the nameplate SMOKEY. Laredo remembered Bella’s raptures over the little grey mare the last time he’d dared to bring his daughter out here.

“Bella is at school.” Laredo did not want to discuss Bella with Cal. The two of them disagreed on Laredo’s decision to keep his daughter away from horses. “Where’s Smokey?”

“Sold her,” Cal grunted. “She was no good for roping or working cattle.”

Why did Laredo care what happened to the little grey mare? He should be glad the thing was gone. If he ever brought Bella out here again, he wouldn’t have to hear about how cool Smokey was for the next six to eight months.

“So, what am I taking back to Denver with me?” Laredo wanted to know. “And please tell me that you didn’t pick a couple of ringers that will be sure to put my ass in the dirt.”

Cal turned and gave Laredo a look from head to toe that made him want to squirm uncomfortably. Then Cal sighed. “I don’t know what your problem is, Laredo. It wouldn’t matter what I gave you. You could ride it. You can ride anything I can. You always could.”

“Don’t blow sunshine up my ass. We both know you ride the horses and I ride a chair. It’s pretty much the way things are.” Laredo gestured to the horses. “Tell me about them, and let’s not argue about my subpar cowboy skills.”

“The only thing subpar about you,” Cal drawled, “is that you use words like subpar in conversation. Sheesh. Loosen up, will you?”

“Can we get back to the point?” Laredo looked at the four horses tied in the aisle. They were all roughly the same size. His brain immediately began picking out their conformation—the way they were put together—and trying to decode what their bloodlines might be and where their talents might lie.

“You tell me,” Cal said, gesturing to the animals. “You’re the one with our entire studbook memorized. We have four ranch stallions. You tell me which horse is which and what they’ll do.”

“These are all from the same stud,” Laredo commented suddenly. “Aria told me we were going to be doing some working cow horse stuff, so you pulled some of Bart’s offspring because they’re pretty much good at everything.”

“See?” Cal teased. “You know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Laredo muttered. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“That is a bit of a puzzle I was hoping you could clear up for me.” Cal leaned his hip against a hitching post placed conveniently in front of the ranch’s main tack room. “You were babbling on the phone last night about prissy cowboys and some other bullshit I couldn’t understand.”

“Dad is…” Laredo stopped. He didn’t want to talk about their father. Joe Hernandez had always been larger than life to Laredo. Cal had always been less intimidated.

But Cal’s expression was not judgmental for once. There was something else on his older brother’s face. Compassion? Was that actually compassion? Laredo felt like he should take a note and put this in the history books. Cal Hernandez did not do compassion. He was far too jaded for that. And Cal had been jaded since he was eighteen years old. Something had happened when Cal was eighteen, but he wouldn’t say what.

“It was never easy being Dad’s favorite,” Cal said suddenly. His tone was low and his words were gentle. “You always seemed like the biggest kiss-ass on the planet, but I think deep down we all knew there was a cost to that the rest of us would never have wanted to pay.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Laredo said suddenly. He turned his angry gaze to his brother. “You were always Dad’s confidante. You were the oldest. You were the one who knew every fucking thing that went on here at this ranch! He told you things.”

“And you think that was good?” Cal’s voice was rising. “You think that made me happy?”

Laredo stopped. No. He didn’t think that made Cal happy. It was the opposite.

Cal’s lips pulled back into a bitter smile. “There were some bad things that happened here. I think everyone knows it. But nobody wants to believe it could happen here, at our place.” Cal held his arms out to indicate the barn and surrounding land. “These hallowed lands, if you will.”

“Stop.” Laredo shook his head. He didn’t want to fight with his brother. “Let’s just say that we both dealt with Dad’s crap in our own way. Now Dad has decided that the Hernandez men are a bunch of sissies. He’s bitching about selling stock and never winning anything and how other people win on stock that we’ve bred and how we never get credit.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Cal pointed out. “We have people from California coming to buy our bucking horses. And our bucking bulls have been used in the national rodeo finals. I think that’s pretty damn good.”

“Not good enough for Dad.” Laredo wondered why he cared about that.

Cal cocked his head to one side. “Someday you have to stop waiting for that man to validate your existence.”

“I’m not!” Laredo protested. He felt naked in that moment, as if Cal could see straight through to his soul. “I’m just trying to make the bastard lay off.”

“And yet you won’t let your little girl—a kid who wants to ride, mind you—touch a pony.” Cal shook his head. “You’ve got yourself all twisted up, and at some point, you’re going to have to realize that’s not going to work in the long term. You have to stop trying to be the man everyone else wants you to be and just be yourself.”

“Fuck off,” Laredo growled. “When I want a therapist, I’ll hire one.”

Cal laughed. The sound was unexpected and made Laredo take a step back. Then Cal shook his head. “Mom and Dad shelled out thousands of dollars to that Shelly woman for Jesse’s therapy. You’ll have to ask her how that went.”

“I’d forgotten about that,” Laredo murmured. “How is Jesse?”

“Wishing you would lay off,” Cal shot back.

Laredo sighed. “I’ll lay off when Dad lays off.”

“It’s not our ranch. It’s not our land.” Cal’s firm tone was backed with iron. Cal had always had a special spot for Jesse. Sometimes Laredo wondered if it wasn’t just a little more than the big brotherly feeling the rest of the Hernandez boys felt for their adopted sister.

“Jesse is too young for you,” Laredo said quietly.

Cal’s blue eyes flashed, and he shoved his fingers through his hair. “Don’t tell me what I already know.”

“Just making sure we were all on the same page.”

“And what about you?” Cal turned his back on Laredo and headed back out to the yard. “You’re taking these horses to Clouds End Farm, right? The home of the very attractive, very talented, and very single Aria Callahan?”

“I’m not interested in Aria,” Laredo told his brother.

Damn. That was a lie. Had Laredo actually realized that before this moment? He’d been telling himself it was all about the stock and winning and making his father happy. Suddenly, he realized that it was a whole lot more than that.

“Let’s get this trailer hooked up,” Cal said irritably. “I don’t have the time to stand here and watch you lie to yourself.”

There was absolutely nothing that Laredo could say to that little barb. So, he got into his truck and let his brother guide him as he backed the damaged truck up to the trailer. The two of them worked without words in the way of men that have worked side by side all of their lives. When the trailer was finally secured to Cal’s satisfaction, it was time to load the horses.

Cal disappeared inside the barn and came back out with all four horses trailing behind him. Their lead ropes were loose, and they were walking along as though they did this every day. Maybe they did. Cal had once been called the horse whisperer by their father. Not that Cal’s constant horseback status was enough to save the rest of the Hernandez men from their father’s prissy comments.

Then Cal handed three of the ropes to Laredo. He fumbled them in his hands and dropped two out of three. The animals just stood there and stared at him as though they were waiting for him to get a clue.

“I don’t think I need four,” Laredo called out to his brother.

Cal was already done loading the first horse and had come back for the second one. “You’ll be fine. I don’t know what you’re worried about. If Dad supports this project, you’ll have plenty of time during the workday to ride four.”

Horse number two was settled in the trailer. Laredo stared at the big black gelding with the white blaze that was currently waiting to be loaded into the horse trailer. Was the gelding eyeing him? Laredo felt a shot of anxiety as he thought about actually getting on the horse. Would he look stupid? None of these were small animals. That was good. Sometimes a decent cutting or reining horse was an extremely short-legged animal with a low center of gravity. It made them better at their jobs, but it also made a six-foot-tall man look ridiculous in the saddle. At least that was what Helena had always said.

Cal loaded a third horse, and suddenly the black one was the only animal still standing there looking at Laredo as though he was on the menu. Reaching out with a hand that was actually shaking, Laredo patted the horse’s sleek black hide. It was a strange relief when the beast did not eat him. As ridiculous as it might sound, that was actually something Laredo feared. Or rather his fear was that the horse would know he was so scared of it that the animal would shamelessly take advantage of him at every turn.

Cal appeared in front of Laredo. “Why don’t you load him? He seems to like you.”

“Like me?” Laredo turned his head so fast he heard his neck crackle. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Load him,” Cal said flatly. “Put on your big boy pants and act like a man. You’ve loaded a dozen horses in a trailer before. Don’t pretend you didn’t grow up out here like the rest of us.”

“Right.”

Cal shook his head and folded his arms over his chest. “Sometimes I wonder if your daughter isn’t more of a man than you are these days.”

The words stung, but mostly because they were true. Somewhere in the last nine years, Laredo had been neutered. At some point, he was really going to have to do something to get his mojo back. He just wished it didn’t have to be on the back of a horse.