Broken (Brody Brothers Book 4) Page 7

  Yikes. “Apparently. You haven’t threatened to kill him, have you?”

  “Oh, every last one of us has threatened to murder Ry on multiple occasions, but between you and me, I’m loving the challenge. We’re now raising cattle for Pure Angus—grass-fed, organically raised beef that’s marketed to folks who don’t want their food shot up with chemicals, and we’re still this continent’s best Black Angus stud ranch. We’re drowning in work, but now that I’ve recovered from my injuries and I’m able to pitch in, we’re having one helluva good time.”

  “You don’t miss the touring and traveling? The rodeo life?”

  Again, he absently touched his right side, and for a moment his gaze seemed to turn inward. “I don’t really need it anymore.”

  She frowned, bewildered, and was about to ask him what he meant when the ringtone set for her grandmother sounded. “Whoa, she never calls. I’m sorry, but I have to get this,” she added, already pulling her phone out and tapping the screen. “Granny, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “Come to the old homestead now, Winsome,” came her grandmother’s voice. “That slick lawyer from town is coming over to read us a new version of your father’s will.”

  Chapter Five

  “At this time, I would like to express my deepest sympathies for your loss.” Robert Huckles, a bespectacled bald man sporting a snazzy red bowtie, fastidiously straightened the papers he’d placed on the kitchen table. “It was Mr. Smiley’s request that his will be read twenty-four hours after his funeral, so I’m grateful you’re all still in town.”

  “Son, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get on with this dog-and-pony show before I’m the one that needs burying.” Rufus shifted his weight so agitatedly he looked like he was walking in place. “Able Smiley hated me and everyone else in this room, and that’s the honest truth of it. The sooner I find out he gave us all nothing but the bird, the sooner we can get on with the business of living our lives.”

  “Yes. Well.” Huckles cleared his throat and again straightened his papers. “Let’s dive in, shall we?”

  “Thank you,” Winnie muttered, struggling not to glance at her watch. Des had dropped her off at the homestead with the announcement that since they’d been interrupted, she owed him a meal. She wasn’t sure how that worked, but like an idiot she listened to her own mouth agree with him without her brain offering up a protest. Talk about a mental hiccup. She had to correct it before that agreement somehow got set in stone, so that meant getting in touch with him. Maybe even heading over to Green Rock Ranch to see him again…

  Good grief.

  She had to be losing her mind.

  “I’ll just skip over the official statement of Able Smiley declaring himself to be of sound mind and body—”

  Nothing in the world could have stopped Winnie’s derisive snort.

  “—and move along to why the three of you have gathered here.” Clearing his throat once more, Huckles peered over at Rufus. “To Rufus Wright… that is you, correct, sir?”

  The old farmhand’s weathered face wrinkled up as if he smelled something bad. “I sure as hell ain’t Heavenly Smiley.”

  “Rufus.” Her grandmother play-swatted his forearm. “Let the man speak.”

  “‘To Rufus Wright,’” Huckles tried again. “‘For a quarter of a century, you were on the dole at the homestead, always managing to stretch a full day’s work out to cover an entire week. As useless as you’ve been, I feel it’s only right to leave you the Bonneville in the barn. Like you, it hasn’t worked in decades.’”

  “The bird,” Rufus muttered, shaking his head while Winnie exchanged resigned glances with her grandmother. “I knew he’d use his last words to flip me the bird. That’s just who he was.”

  “‘To the woman who raised me, my stepmother, Heavenly Smiley,’” Huckles continued determinedly, keeping his eyes on the paper before him. “‘I know you tried to be a mother to me from the time my father brought you home, truly I do. But you should know that right from the beginning, I read you as being a mealy-mouthed, know-nothing failure from start to—'”

  Winnie hopped to her feet. “Mr. Huckles, I know you have a job to do, but this is ridiculous. Is it really necessary to read every poisonous word my father put in there?”

  “Honoring the deceased’s last words is usually the policy of our firm, but in this case I, uh, believe that cutting to the chase might be the best for all concerned. Don’t tell my partners I’m doing this. Um…” Hurriedly he scanned down the page, wincing every now and again as he read through the vitriol her father had clearly spewed. “Ah, here it is. Able Smiley leaves his stepmother, Heavenly Smiley, the deed to the homestead, and all the buildings and possessions therein. It is yours, lock, stock and barrel, Mrs. Smiley. Then he says something about how he hopes that it breaks whatever spirit you have left in your withered-up husk of a body. Dear me,” Huckles muttered, looking distressed. “He really was an unpleasant individual, wasn’t he?”

  “Able left me the farm?” Granny repeated in disbelief while Winnie’s blood drained to a point somewhere down around her knees. Of all the things she’d expected, she honestly hadn’t thought her father would pull off one final slap in the face and leave her with nothing. Then again, that was who he’d always been, the monster who gleefully crushed every glimmer of hope in her soul.

  Typical.

  Granny turned to her, horrified. “Darling girl, I don’t know what to say—”

  “It’s fine, Granny.” Humiliation washed over Winnie as the enormity of what just happened hit her, and it took everything she had to keep her head up. Even from beyond the grave, her father had managed to make her feel like she was nothing—certainly not worthy of inheriting the property that had been in Smiley hands since the 1800s.

  Making her feel like nothing had always been his specialty.

  “And to Able’s daughter, Winsome.” Huckles adjusted his glasses and peered at the page he held. “He had quite a bit to say about not believing in hell, but if there is one, he states here that he’ll probably end up there, and that it’s all your fault.”

  Enough. “I refuse to listen to another twisted version of look at what you made me do, Mr. Huckles. Allow me see you out.”

  “But you haven’t heard what he bequeathed to you—”

  “There’s nothing of that monster’s that I could ever want, so let’s just call it a day and try to move on with the rest of our lives.”

  “But there is something he left you.” He cringed away from her as if he feared she might try to physically drag him to the door to give him the boot. “A little over five-thousand dollars, to be precise.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from recoiling. “He… he’s paying me money? Like a—” She cut herself off, her stomach heaving. But the thought persisted. He thought he could pay her money, like that would somehow make it all okay. Like she was some woman on the street instead of his own flesh and blood… “God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Sweet girl.” Granny reached for her hand and squeezed. “Put it right out of your head, you hear me? He’s gone.”

  “Yes, he’s gone,” Hr. Huckles said, looking somewhat confused. “And whatever was in his bank account is now yours. Of course, you’ll have to pay an inheritance tax on this windfall…”

  The lawyer’s words slowly faded as Winnie tried to absorb the emotional rollercoaster she’d just gone on. She would have been the first to say she never wanted a damn thing from Able Smiley; from start to finish he’d been the single most powerful source of misery in her life. She’d had to collect scraps of material from wherever she could find it to make her own clothes, because her father never spent a dime on her. He’d killed her mother, for God’s sake, then blamed a damn horse.

  But that wasn’t the greatest insult.

  No.

  When she’d run from the Smiley homestead, she’d made it abundantly clear that she’d wanted nothing from her father. Nothing.

  But the homestead
was in another category altogether.

  It was her birthright.

  The homestead wasn’t a gift to be bestowed on her, so she’d been prepared to accept it as hers. But she wasn’t prepared for this, and she sure as hell wasn’t prepared for a sudden and terrible obligation to accept money from a man who had systematically destroyed everything that was good in her.

  She didn’t want his filthy money. It felt too much like a payoff. And that made her feel like… like…

  A whore.

  “Winnie.”

  She started at the sound of her grandmother’s voice, only to realize everyone was staring at her. Oh, God. Could they see how filthy she felt? Could they see?

  She swallowed hard against the bile in her throat and wished she could disappear forever. “I’m sorry, what?”

  Huckles held out a pen. “I need to get your signature on a few documents, and then I can get these funds transferred into your account. So if you could—”

  “Later.” With her stomach in knots, she all but ran for the door. “I’ll handle all of this later, but right now I have to do something.”

  And the sooner she got over to Green Rock Ranch and did it, the better.

  Technically speaking, the Smiley property was next door to the legendary Brody ranch. But Green Rock Ranch was so huge, it was almost ten minutes before she finally drove her reliable little Camry through the majestic metal arch displaying Green Rock Ranch’s name, the arch’s twin posts covered with polished malachite slabs that had been mined from the property, the very same semiprecious stone that gave the ranch its name.

  She didn’t know much about the property, other than what every native of Bittterthorn knew—Green Rock was one of the few mega cattle ranches established in the 1800s that still thrived to this day. Right from its humble beginnings, the Brody family had owned and run the property, expanding and refining its operations with each passing generation until it was a world-renowned powerhouse in the cattle industry.

  The Brody legend had also grown, to the point where the name was now locally synonymous with mind-boggling wealth and notoriety. From the time the first Brody made his way to the wilds of a territory that was decades away from statehood, it quickly became understood that to be a Brody was to be the biggest and boldest badass around.

  That held true to this very day.

  In the back of her mind, she’d always wondered if having larger-than-life swagger was a genetic quirk, or if it was something that had to be learned. They all had it, even Des. It didn’t matter that he’d been born under another name, to another family. From head to toe, he was all Brody. Even as it infuriated her, that dazzling Brody-ness had her half-swooning whenever he was near.

  But now wasn’t the time to think about how that kind of swagger made her weak in the knees. Now was the time to make sure Des knew the reality of the situation.

  Even though it made her want to throw up.

  “Excuse me.” Acid burned in her stomach as she came to a stop beside a couple cowhands leaning on a fence and looking at a terrifying monster of a black bull in the pen beyond. “Could you help me out? I’m looking for Des Brody.”

  “Well, now.” One of the cowhands, a dark-haired, rangy-looking man with a mustache and goatee, turned her way with a smile so bright it rivaled the sun. “Why would you want to look for someone who’s all broken and used up when I’m standing right here in all my glory, ready and willing to give a gorgeous little lady like you any damn thing she could possibly imagine?”

  Huh. Maybe it was something in the water over here. “I doubt you could, unless you’re part-owner of Green Rock Ranch. Are you some kind of long-lost Brody that I don’t know about?”

  The smile, if possible, got brighter. “Would it help me get anywhere with you if I said yes, pretty lady?”

  “If you say yes to being a Brody, Fenster, that means that as my long-lost brother, I can now beat the fucking shit out of you without you bringing charges against me.” Like an oncoming storm, Des Brody emerged from a red and white-trimmed barn, his stalking gait both ominous and strangely exhilarating for her to watch. “So, what’s it to be? Are you a Brody, or aren’t you?”

  The cowhand, Fenster, seemed to shrink before her eyes. “No, boss. I was just, uh… This lady’s looking for you.” After gesturing her way, Fenster and his pal did a quick disappearing act into the barn. Des didn’t bother looking their way as he made a beeline for her car, and when he pulled the driver’s side door open, she didn’t even think to do anything but get out.

  Man. These Brodys sure had a way of getting whatever they wanted.

  “Phone,” he announced, so out-of-the-blue she couldn’t help but stare up at him blankly. She’d never been this close to him, but now that she was, she spied a scar under his chin, and another along the ridge of his widow’s peak. Clearly his time on the rodeo circuit had left its mark… “Phone, Winsome.”

  She snapped out of it with a start. Damn, she was no better than that drooling woman at the restaurant. “What phone? What are you talking about?”

  “Give me your phone. Now.”

  She began reaching for her purse before she realized what she was doing. “I’m not one of your cowhands, Desmond. Bark orders at me and you’ll regret it.”

  Without a word, he moved past her, reached into the car, dragged out her purse, and rifled through it.

  Good grief. “Des—”

  He came up with her cellphone, tossed her purse back into the car, then handed her the phone. “Passcode.”

  “Holy crap,” she muttered, unlocking her phone without knowing why. “What is your problem?”

  “My problem is that you didn’t call before dropping in. You need to call before dropping in so I can make sure no one but me has eyes on you from the second you roll up.” With a few keystrokes he put his number into her phone, then shocked the crap out of her by taking a selfie. “There we go.”

  “There we go?” She stared at him as he messed with her phone some more, then dug his own phone out of his back pocket. “Pausing the conversation to have a selfie moment isn’t something I ever thought I’d see a non-teenager do, much less a Brody.”

  “I want my pic to pop up on your phone whenever I call you. Smile.”

  “When you c—” Before she could react, he held up his phone and took a picture of her.

  “Perfect.” Messing with her phone one last time, his phone suddenly chimed. “Okay, got your number, and that pic is fucking perfect. Caught mid-word, you look like you don’t know whether to cuss me out or kick me.”

  “So, in other words, it’s accurate.” Nerves made her mouth desert-dry, and she had to lick her lips as he handed back her phone. “Has anyone ever told you you’re weird?”

  “Not if they want to stay on my good side. Which probably explains why I like having you around,” he added, surprising her. “You don’t give a damn about trying to impress me.”

  “Again with the accuracy.”

  “I’m nothing if not truthful. So,” he went on, folding his muscle-corded arms in front of his chest. “You got a reason for being here? Miss me already?”

  “Seriously, it’s got to be something in the water,” she muttered to herself.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She took a calming breath, hating that once she told him the news, he would no longer have any desire to have her in his life. But that was the truth, and she hated hiding from that truth even more. If he was sniffing around only to see what he could get out of her, then she was better off without him. “I thought you should know my grandmother is now the one you need to take out to lunch.”

  His brows slowly lowered into a scowl. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means Heavenly Smiley is now the owner of Smiley homestead.” The words tumbled out in a rush, because she just wanted this over with. Gone was Des Brody’s interest in her, and damn it, she had no choice but to be happy to have an obvious user out of her life. “You might say I just suffered one
last poke in the eye from dear old Daddy, but at least it’s now a done deal. The deed is in my granny’s hands, so I thought you should know she’s the one you now need to sweet talk. FYI, she likens the Brody clan to a bunch of rattlesnakes, and since she’s done that for as long as I can remember, you’re probably not going to have an easy time with her. Also, I don’t think she’s partial to Mexican food, but she does like loose leaf English breakfast tea. If you’re looking for an in with her, that should probably do the tr—”

  “Shut up.” In one efficient move, he shut her car door and had her up against it before she even knew what he was doing. Then, just as she took a breath to blast him for being a pushy Brody, his mouth came down squarely on hers.

  Whoa.

  To say that she’d led a sheltered life was an understatement of vast proportions. With her father acting as an ever-present, utterly maniacal deterrent during her high school years, she’d never gone on dates or had a boyfriend. When she’d finally freed herself from his diabolical clutches by running away from home her senior year, she’d been too wrapped up in healing what was left of her soul to even think about men. Then, as time moved on and she’d slowly begun to see there was beauty in the world, even in the opposite sex, she hadn’t known how to mingle that beauty with her inner ugliness, so she’d simply never tried.

  And kissing?

  There she was at twenty-two, and she could count on one hand the amount of times she’d ever kissed anyone, and have a couple fingers left over. She didn’t do this.

  She didn’t know how to do this.

  And yet…

  With his mouth sealing on hers like it was a custom fit, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from kissing him back. It was as if something in her had been waiting to kiss Des Brody her whole life.

  She couldn’t remember closing her eyes. But now that they were, she could focus every sense she possessed on the feel of him, from the demanding press of his lips, to the scorching heat of his body against hers. He didn’t crush down on her—something for which she was immensely grateful—but his chest against her breasts felt so surprisingly good that her nipples tightened until they ached. Her thighs quivered as surging heat bloomed between them, a sensation that sent her brain into a chaotic freefall, where down was up and every nerve turned raw.