Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I don’t have many options. I could get another job, or sell my plasma, or start an OnlyFans. I could be the naked horse girl.
But I know what I really have to do. The truth tastes like salt on the back of my tongue. I want to gag, but I can either swallow it now or choke.
I take out my phone and call War.
Chapter 9
Melody
The bar in the lobby of Warren’s hotel is quiet. A young man in a suit sips a light beer and watches baseball on the TV in the corner. The bartender brings me a gin and tonic, and I take a long drink, not sure why I wanted it. Dad used to drink these, and for years, the smell of gin made me think of it. For years, it made me sick.
War shows up right on time. He slinks into the bar, walking in that slouchy, confident way he has, like he can glide into any room and feel it out and take it over if he wanted. He sits on the stool next to me.
“I was happy you called,” he says. “And happier you wanted to meet.”
“Don’t think I’m doing this because I like you.” I glance at him. “I don’t have any other choice. Bomber got hurt.”
“The horse? What happened?”
“Broke his leg, and instead of writing him off and putting him down, I’m going to buy him. But horses are expensive.”
He frowns like he doesn’t understand. “You’re saving him? What about Ford?”
“Bomber’s mine,” I say, and he doesn’t push. “That’s why we need to talk.”
The bartender brings War a beer. He takes a long drink and leans forward on his elbows, studying the moisture droplets on the glass. “It’s funny, you know. You’re the second person to come to me for money in the last couple days.”
“Who else?” I ask and shake my head before he answers. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. How much did my dad offer you to bring me home?”
He keeps staring and doesn’t answer. His eyes narrow like he’s considering something, like he’s doing the math. My heart’s racing in my chest and I feel sick, sick deep in my soul, like something’s rotten in my body. Like I’m rotten, the part of me that’s me somehow tainted. I’m selling myself to War, offering to give him what he wants for a cut of his prize, willing to go home for money. All to save Bomber. All to prove that I can do something on my own for once.
“Why not just ask your dad for whatever you need?” he asks, and the question takes me off guard. I sip the gin and think of my dad striding across the barn, grinning like a maniac, arms thrown wide to scoop me up in a big hug. He towered, he loomed, that gigantic man. He was warmth and joy, at least for a while, at least until things changed.
“I’ll take your money, but I won’t take his.” I toss the gin back, letting it burn. “Well? How much?”
“Not enough,” he says, and I feel myself deflate. “But there’s a bonus.” Slowly, he turns to me, and he stares at me like he wants to rip into my body. I open my mouth to ask him what he means, but I suddenly don’t want to know, like knowing will only make things so much harder, so much worse. He holds me there, pinned in his gaze, his handsome mouth pulled down into a frown, his eyes hard.
He reaches out and puts a hand on my knee.
I can’t move. My heart’s racing. I don’t understand my reaction, but it’s like he’s got hold of me, like he’s latched on and weighing me down. His head tilts, his mouth opens, and I think of that kiss—the kiss I owe him. The kiss I promised him. And I feel like he could take it whenever he wanted, but the fact that he hasn’t yet means I’m in his debt, that my body, my lips, my tongue, are his to own until he collects.
He says, “If I can get you to stay for a week, he’ll give me a half a million dollars. I assumed that would never happen. But two hundred and fifty each? For one week?”
My guts revolt. I brush his hand away, spell broken. “That’s absurd. That’s—that’s way too much money.”
“He’s rich and he’s dying and he’s desperate.”
“Why? Why would he be so desperate to get me home and make me stay?”
“Because you’re the last one left.” His words strike me in the throat and I can’t speak. “You’re his only daughter. That’s what he keeps saying, anyway. You’re the only one that can take over Leader Ranch. I guess he thinks if you come home and stick around for a week, you’ll fall in love with the place again—and you’ll stay. He believes it enough to gamble half a million dollars, which you know is nothing to him.”