Page 46 of Her Boss, Her Rancher: Sunrise On The Ranch

“You can’t be sure of that!” Cade ducked, answering Eli’s right hook with his own and connecting solidly with the other man’s ribs. “That’s why I wrote the letter. To give her a chance.”

Cold water showered both men before another fist met skin. Sputtering, they both looked up.

“On your feet,” Reagan said quietly. When they didn’t move fast enough, she went to the kitchen and returned with another pitcher of water. “On. Your. Feet.”

The two men rose, both bruised, bleeding and breathing hard. Destruction ruled the room, the sofa would be water stained, the decorative bowl and matching lamp Reagan had recently put out on the coffee and end table were both shattered, and standing water made the floor a slippery mess. “You two—shut it down,” she snapped. “Pull up a seat, opposite sides of the rooms.” When they didn’t move, she shouted at the top of her lungs. “Now!”

Cade shoved Eli and went to reclaim his seat, forced to set it right side up before dropping into it with a wince.Damn, but this would leave a mark.

Eli followed suit, but instead of dropping into his chair, he sank down gingerly, favoring one knee.

Reagan stood between them, pale and shaking with what Cade quickly identified as anger. She shocked him senseless when she rounded on Eli. “Who, exactly, do you think you are, Elijah Covington, to set out making decisions for your brother, for his private life and for the ranch’s well-being without consulting those of us with a vested interest?” He immediately opened his mouth and she threw more water at him, leaving him sputtering. “Prove you’re educated, for once, and choose your words carefully before you speak.”

He glared at her, the muscles in his jaw working. The tension grew thick, then thicker still, when Eli refused to answer her.

Reagan moved in closer to him, setting the water pitcher down. “You and Cade have had your differences. That’s no secret. But you can’t waltz back into his life and presume you know what’s best for him. You owe him the courtesy and respect of treating him like the man he’s become.”

“I ‘owe him’ the protection I never gave him growing up,” Eli ground out. “Emma wasn’t just screwing him—she was going to screw him over.”

The crack of Reagan’s hand meeting Eli’s cheek stunned both Cade and Tyson, who only stared at Reagan, wide-eyed. “She wasn’t just Cade’s lover, Eli. She was my friend. You ripped her out of my life just as much as you ripped her out of his. You’ll show Emma some respect, particularly after all the goodwill she’s offered us since she left.”

“What goodwill?” Cade asked, jumping into the conversation.

Eli lifted his chin. “She refunded full payment to us, plus interest, within two weeks of returning to New York.” On a heavy sigh, Eli leaned forward and rested his forehead in his hands. “There have also been advertising campaigns we haven’t paid for that have run in premier travel magazines. No doubt those ads have helped generate business, as have the gift cards she’s been giving to clients who review their experience on one of five sites.”

Ty scooted forward in his seat. “How’s she getting guest names?”

“She’s not. The ads offer the cards to anyone who contacts the magazine and provides a bill of sale and proof of their review.” Eli finally glanced up.

“Why did you wait until now to tell me?” Cade meant to lob the question like a grenade. Instead, it fell softly and with no threat whatsoever.

“I got a call from the FBI about Michael Anderson. Seems they’re investigating him for skimming the books. When I asked Reagan for our records, she got the whole story from me. She made me call you. But I still believe Emma was using you, Cade. The books proved it. Seemed she had a change of conscience at the end, but she used you to get there.” Eli swallowed hard. “I wanted to protect you from being hurt again.”

Reagan moved close to Eli, gently touching the red mark her hand had left on his cheek. “I’m sorry for this. It wasn’t right. But what you did wasn’t right, either. She might have been my first true girlfriend, and I might miss her like crazy, but that’s a drop in the bucket compared to what Cade’s been through. He loves her, Eli. What would you have done if someone tried to terminate our relationship based on their singular opinion that we didn’t suit?”

Eli’s face hung slack for a moment before a bevy of emotions raced across it, everything from rage to grief to remorse—a giant fifteen-car pileup of emotion colliding there in the living room. He looked at Cade. “Do you...”

Put up or shut up, man. There won’t be another chance.“Yeah.” His voice trembled, and he cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said more firmly. “I do.” He stood, staring at the floor and ignoring the blooming ache in his ribs as he laced his fingers behind his head and pulled. “I love her.” It took him a second to be able to face Eli. “Living without her has been like living with a terminal illness that kills me a little more with every breath I take. She’s the cause, and she’s the only cure.”

A sudden intensity appeared in his older brother’s normally stoic gaze. “We’ll fix this.” Eli stood and moved to Cade. Gripping him by one shoulder, his other hand cupping the side of Cade’s neck, Eli lowered his voice. “I’ve done wrong by you, Cade. Over and over, I’ve made the wrong decisions where you were concerned. Not that it makes it any better, but every time—every decision—was made out of love. Once I make this right with Emma, I’ll ask that you forgive me.”

One corner of Cade’s mouth kicked up as he fought an unexpected rush of emotion for his brother. “Help me get her back, Eli, and the slate’s clean. We have to start over somewhere, or we’re going to end up killing each other.”

Eli grinned and winced as his split lip pulled and bled freely again. “I’d move heaven and hell to earn that clean slate, brother.”

Cade shook his head and wrapped Eli in a fierce embrace. “You want to make this right? Between us?”

“More than anything.”

“Bring Emma home.”

15

EMMAKICKEDOFFher high heels, more than ready to drop from five foot ten to her much more moderate five foot six. Today had been another fourteen-hour day on her feet. She’d been in meeting after meeting with staff members, ignoring the speculative gossip about the vice president.

He’d had his little band of supporters, yes, but in general? The rest of the staff despised him, especially when they found out he’d been responsible for the company’s recent hardships. And for what seemed like the hundredth time today, Emma berated herself for letting things get so far out of hand, for failing to pay more attention to what he’d been doing and for violating the very concept she’d founded the company on: people.

Curling her toes into her foyer’s Oriental carpet, she sighed. Tonight was going to be a beer and wings night. She’d earned it. Her cell phone sat at the top of her briefcase, so she retrieved it, found her favorite sports bar that delivered and hit Call. The phone only rang six times before the bartender answered. She smiled, recognizing his voice. “Hey, Paulie. It’s Emma.”