Page 39 of His Fake Fiancé

She’d brought up the idea of maybe going to college after she graduated from high school, but her dad had brushed her off, telling her she already had a good, stable job—which was true—and he was very proud she was part of the family legacy. After that, she’d felt too guilty to bring it up again.

Today, the office was a madhouse. Not only was her dad in there, yelling at whoever was on the other end of the phone clutched in his hand, but Brock and Jax were also taking up space. Brock was on the computer, pounding the keys with his big, brutish fingers, and Jax was leaning against the wall next to the filing cabinet, his arms crossed over his chest, a scowl on his face.

She closed the door behind her, trying to figure out what the hell had happened. She sidled over to Jax, who was usually the most level headed of the bunch. “What’s going on?”

“Maxwell’s has pulled out of the cull buy next month.” Jax looked at her and his jaw was so tight, he was lucky his teeth weren’t cracked.

“They can’t do that.” It was a dumb thing to say, but it was all she could come up with. The ranch was doing well, through a lot of blood, sweat, and tears from all of them, but it also ran on an exceptionally tight budget. Losing this contract meant their budget for next year would be severely compromised.

“Yeah, well, they did.” Jax shook his head and then headed for the door. “I’ve got cattle to see to.” And then he was gone.

She walked over to the desk and stopped behind Brock’s chair. He was scanning a website she didn’t recognize, but it looked like it was a cattle broker or something. She placed her hand on his shoulder. He sat back in the chair with a sigh, but the tension in his muscles kept them tight.

“What happens now?” She kept her voice low. Her dad was still yelling into the phone on the other side of the room.

Brock glanced up at her. He looked tired and tense, and she wanted to wrap her arms around him and take some of the burden off his shoulders. Sure, they were broad—he was built like a linebacker—but she often thought he took on way too much, shouldered a lot of stuff that he didn’t need to. But then, he was the oldest and considered it his job to take care of everyone. Often to the detriment of himself.

He scrubbed his hand over his face and sighed. “We hope we can find a new buyer, or maybe find an auction house that has had a last minute cancellation and is willing to take us.”

Her stomach clenched, and she was glad she hadn’t had anything to eat this morning. Breakfast would probably be making a repeat appearance. “And if that doesn’t happen?”

“Then we hold on to the cull through the winter, which would really cut into our food stores.” He sounded so defeated, her soul ached.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and squeezed. He patted her hand, but that damn tension still made him feel like a granite statue.

Her dad slammed down the phone. It was one of the old-fashioned kind that hung on the wall, with a dial and everything. The receiver hitting the cradle made a cracking noise. Claire jumped, surprised the phone didn’t come crashing off the wall.

She turned toward her dad. He thrust his hands through his hair. It was more grey than brown now, but it gave him a distinguished look. His cheeks were red, his blue eyes snapping with fury. Which was currently aimed at her.

“Where have you been?” His voice was deep and raspy, the words loud in the small space, and coated with disappointment. She knew his anger wasn’t truly directed at her, but her insides shriveled all the same.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “I accidentally slept in this morning. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.” He pointed a finger at her. “I knew this whole thing with that Callahan kid was a bad idea.” He grabbed his hat off the table, plunked it on his head, and stormed out the door.

Claire tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling, trying to let the words and the anger go. She knew he wasn’t really mad at her, that she was just the current outlet for his frustration. Didn’t make it hurt any less.

Brock stood. He towered over her, his six-foot-five frame taking up most of the space in the office. Hell, he took up most of the space no matter where he went. But, when it came to her, he was a gentle giant. Other people, not so much. If you looked up the definition of surly in the dictionary, Broderick McKinney’s picture would be front and center.

“It’s not you, you know.” This time, it was his turn to put his hand on her shoulder. He gave a squeeze, and she nodded. “Still doesn’t mean I don’t agree with him about this whole Jake thing.”

“Brock,” she said, making sure to keep a warning in her tone. She was not having this discussion with him. Again. It was only going to end in a fight, and she wasn’t in the mood. None of her family thought Jake was good enough for her. They’d never understood the reasons she’d stayed friends with him over the years.

Not that any of them knew how she really felt about Jake. That was not a conversation she was having with any of them. Ever. She didn’t want to know about their romantic entanglements, and she refused to tell them about hers.

He frowned, his blond eyebrows drawing together. Man, he looked mean. Good thing she knew his bark was worse than his bite. She could definitely see other people giving him wide berth when he got like this. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about.” She patted him on the arm. His forearm was like a fricking tree branch. “I’m perfectly safe over at the Callahan’s.” She wasn’t sure how well her heart was faring, but her brother didn’t need to worry about that.

He grabbed his hat, twirling it around in his hands. “But, you’d tell me if you weren’t, right?” He kept his gaze on hers and for some reason, for the first time ever, she felt a real connection with her brother.

Sure, she loved him and she knew he loved her, but she’d never felt a deep connection with any of her brothers, not like the connection the Callahans had with each other. It was probably because her brothers were so much older than she was. Brock had been ten when she was born, Jax nine and Linc eight. So, by the time she’d started kindergarten, they were already teenagers. Although it was dumb, she’d always felt like she was on the outside, looking in. Her brothers were so close in age, they grew up together. Their bond was super tight. And then she’d come along, when they were already halfway through childhood.

And then to make matters worse, she was the reason they no longer had a mom. Even now, twenty-six years later, she still felt so much guilt.

The sane, rational part of her knew it wasn’t her fault their mom had died, and, from everything she knew about her mom, her mom would never, ever blame her. Would want her to live a happy, guilt-free life.

The guilt still ate at her every day.