“You wanna shower?

“Now?”

“Yep.” Trevor grinned and pointed at the interest stirring in Edgard’s cock. “After we have another round of monkey sex, we’ll talk more about all this. In detail. I wanna make it work this time, Ed. Don’t know how we’re gonna go about it, but I figure we can come up with something.”

“But you always bolted when I attempted to talk about anything serious before.”

“I think us both bein’ here together like this is proof contrary to that statement, doncha think?”

“Yeah. I do. Know what else I think?”

“Mmm.”

Edgard wanted to tell him of the conversation he’d had with Gus, but something made him hold off. He smiled cockily. “I think you’d better plan on checkin’ cattle with the four-wheelers in the morning and grab the lube ’cause it’s gonna be one long damn night.”

Chapter Thirty

After Colby and Cord’s families left, Carson convinced Carolyn to go to bed.

Chassie couldn’t sleep. She paced in the guest bedroom, wondering what Trevor and Edgard were up to even when she knew exactly what they were doing: each other. Odd, she didn’t feel so much jealous as curious.

Keely locked herself in her bedroom on the pretext of studying, but Chassie suspected Keely wouldn’t crack a single textbook. Keely freely shared graphic details about her sex life, but when it came to talking about her feelings she was as closed-mouthed as her brothers, maybe worse.

Chassie meandered downstairs into the dark kitchen. She poured a mug of milk and heated it up in the microwave. When she noticed the small lamp glowing from Aunt Carolyn’s sitting room, she went to turn it off and saw Colt standing in front of the big windows, staring out into the darkness.

He said, “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

“Nope.”

Colt glanced over his shoulder at her and the mug in her hand. He smiled slightly.

“You still drinkin’ warm milk at night?”

Chassie froze. “How did you know?”

“Dag. He told me he never understood how you preferred milk to whiskey, even when you were older and had the choice. Said he used to get up with you sometimes.

That way if Uncle Harland heard noise he’d put the smackdown on Dag, not you.”

A lump lodged in Chassie’s throat, remembering those nights she couldn’t sleep and she’d tiptoe downstairs. Usually Dag would follow, grumbling she’d made enough noise to wake the dead. They’d sit in the sun porch—winter or summer—talking until she finished her “good girl toddy” or until Dag admonished her for being chatty as a magpie.

“I’m surprised Dag told you.”

“Dag told me a lot of things. Might sound sappy as shit, Chass, but he loved you.

Probably had a piss-poor way of showin’ it, but he thought you were the greatest. He always wanted more for you than he wanted for himself. That’s what made him such a great guy, in my mind anyway.” Colt faced the windows again.

Tears filled her eyes and splashed into her cup. “I didn’t know if he cared about me, especially the last couple years. He was always so angry and bitter.”

“Yeah, well, there’s quite a bit you didn’t know about him.”

“There’s lots I did know about him that he wouldn’t admit. Or more importantly, he didn’t have the guts to face up to. With me or anyone else.”

That comment caught Colt off-guard and he whirled around, his eyes narrowed.

“Like what?”

“Are we really gonna tiptoe around the subject, Colt? Dag’s dead and we can’t even talk about this?”

Colt didn’t utter a sound.

“I knew Dag was gay. Or bi. Or whatever. Did you?”

After a healthy pause, he nodded. “Not because he told me, because I stumbled across him and another guy at the Boars Nest. Not my thing but I didn’t give a rat’s ass if it was his. I told him that.”

“Did he believe you?”

“Nah.”

“I would’ve told him the same thing if given the chance.”

“Dag thought it was the booze talkin’ when I tried to convince him no one would care who he fucked behind closed doors. Hell, that philosophy holds true for everyone.”

“Everyone except my dad.”

“Except for him. And without soundin’ like a prick I hope those fool-headed ideas died right along with him.” Colt cocked his head with a quizzical look. “Uncle Harland would’ve freaked about Dag. Disowned him and all that shit, right?”

Talking about her dad always made Chassie uncomfortable. “Pretty much.”

“Then the shitstorm would’ve come down on you. Dag knew how much you already did around your place. Plus you were stuck takin’ care of your old man, barely scrapin’ by. He felt guilty he couldn’t contribute more.”

“It would’ve been worse if Dag hadn’t sent us cash from his rodeo earnin’s when he was on the circuit. It woulda pissed Daddy off if he knew, so I hid it in a separate account and he didn’t find out.” She shook her head. “’Course, there’s none left now. Trevor and I used it to bulk up the herd last spring when the cattle prices were low. Doubled the size of the herd for about half of what it’d normally cost.”

“Smart. You’ve always had a sharp eye when it comes to livestock.”

Chassie appreciated the compliment. “Thanks.”

“So where’d you end up grazin’ all them extras?”

“It’s been a challenge,” she admitted. “We had grazin’ rights to Forest Service land that we hadn’t used for a couple of years because the amount of cattle we were runnin’ decreased dramatically. Then we moved the bulls in with Junior Anderson’s for the summer. No doubt we need more space or we’re gonna hafta cut back and sell some off.”

“You heard the rumors that Gus Dutton is lookin’ to sell his place?” Colt asked.

Chassie thought about lying but in the scheme of things the McKays would end up with the land anyway. “Yeah.”

“Any truth to ’em?”

Chassie measured him. Coolly. Honestly. Since Colt sobered up, he’d shed twenty pounds. His handsome face was sharp angles again. No beer gut or flab distorted his sturdy frame. If anything he’d bulked up, adding more muscle to his arms and chest. His eyes weren’t bloodshot, but they held a wary edge. Not only was Colt the most resourceful of her McKay cousins, he’d always been the best looking—and that was saying something. Colt’s cowboy charm also knew no bounds, so Colt’s bad attitude had been the worst part of his slide into alcoholism. He’d turned mean, cynical, nasty to his family. Just like Dag. But unlike Dag, he’d overcome his demons.

“You gonna keep gawkin’ at me, or you gonna answer the question?”

“Sorry. I…just noticed sobriety agrees with you, Colt. You look great.”

Colt frowned. “Uh. Thanks.”

“Anyway, Gus is sellin’. He approached us first since he knew Trevor and I were lookin’ to expand.”

“That chunk of land borders ours on our southwest end.”

Chassie twisted her index finger around the cup handle. “I know. Which is why he’ll be contacting the McKays to see if you all are interested in addin’ to your spread.”

“Why?” Colt’s frown deepened. “Don’t you want it? That place’d be perfect to expand into.”

“Yeah. Well. I-I—”

“Stop stuttering and shut your mouth. Our family business ain’t none of the McKays’ business.”

Lousy time for her dad’s voice to interject an opinion. Chassie tried for nonchalance.

“Because we can’t afford it. Hardly enough cash on hand for operating expenses, say nothin’ of layin’ out a chunk of change for more. We talked to the banker and he agreed to a loan if we came up with cash collateral.”

“Who you dealin’ with at the bank?”

“Slim Jim Beal. He’s been more than fair, but we can’t come up with the ten percent down payment.”

“What dollar amount did you agree on with Gus?”

“Quarter of a million.” It hurt her stomach to even say a number that big.

Colt’s eyes became accusatory. “You say anything about this to my dad?”

Chassie shook her head.

“Cord? Colby?”

“No. I probably should’ve tonight when I had the chance. Right now, the twenty-five grand we need is as hard to come by as the two hundred thousand. We’re just sick about it, but ain’t nothin’ we can do.” Mortified by her admission, Chassie drained her milk.

“Thanks for keepin’ me company. I’m goin’ to bed.”

Colt merely stared at her and crossed his arms over his chest. The sleeve of his T-shirt lifted, revealing a brightly colored tattoo on his biceps.

“When’d you get that?” She pointed at the tat.

He glanced down. “Last year.”

“What is it?”

“One of the four horseman of the apocalypse.”

“Can I see it?”

“Sure.” Colt rolled his sleeve to the top of his shoulder.

“Whoa. That’s gorgeous. India did that?”

“Yeah. She’s good, ain’t she?”

Chassie squinted at the flames that swirled around the horse’s hooves. “Yep, although it don’t seem like something you’d pick, cuz.”

“It ain’t.” Colt grimaced. “This is what you get when you leave the choice in the hands of a smartass tattoo artist. Indy thought it’d be hilarious tattooin’ a horse on me when my name is Colt. That woman is seriously warped from havin’ so many holes pierced in her head.” His gruff attitude belied his oddly affectionate tone.

“I’d love to have her design one for me one day when I can afford it. But you can be damn sure I ain’t gonna let her tattoo a car chassis on me.”