Page 31 of The Lonely Road

She laughs and wags a finger at me. “Good answer.”

“Bree, I got new cowboy boots,” a young girl calls out as she runs toward us. The kid is maybe four. She’s got a miniature cowboy hat that’s slightly too big for her head. “See!” She kicks her red boots up.

“They are gorgeous, Evie.” Bree crouches and gives the girl a hug.

A man and woman join her.

Cade Mercer and Dr. Sarah Kirk.

They popped up when I did basic research on Wildflower Canyon. The scandal of Congressman Landon Mercer may have died down, but it made a whole lot of noise when it exploded.

Bree introduces me to Cade and Sarah. He’s a big man, broad-shouldered, who likes to keep his arm around his new wife. She’s honey-blonde, with a focused, calm presence and a smile so wide I wonder if it’s hurting her face.

They go their way, and Bree waves the catalog at me. “You buyin’ anything?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think I’m allowed to have a steer in my apartment in New York.”

Her eyes widen. “Is that where you live?”

I nod.

“Joy used to live there, too.”

I nod again because that detail is in my file, along with a police report she made and then withdrew about a boyfriend who gave her a date rape drug.

“Are you buying anything?” I turn her question back on her.

“No, she’s not,” I hear Kaz answer for Bree.

She turns around, shooting daggers. “Who are you to tell me how I run my ranch?”

Kaz tucks his hands in his pockets, almost as if, if he didn’t, he might wrap them around Bree’s neck…or other parts. “You don’t need to buy anything right now. You need to focus on⁠—”

“It’s my ranch,” she cuts him off as she plants both her hands on Kaz’s chest and pushes. He doesn’t move.

“When people said you both are highly entertaining, I didn’t get it. But I do now,” I interject in good humor.

They both look at me, annoyed.

I raise my hands, palms out. “Just sayin’.”

“Bree, this isn’t a good idea, and you….” Kaz trails off when Bree turns to me.

“He thinks I don’t know good from bad. I am running a ranch—and it’s profitable, and he treats me like a child.” She holds up the catalog. “You forget, Kaz, my uncle ran a herd for twenty years. I know what a good Angus looks like.”

They both fall silent and stare at each other.

“Fine.” Kaz sighs. “Do whatever the fuck you want!”

With that, he walks away, his hands still tucked into his pockets.

We stand in silence, watching Mav Kincaid bid on a lot of Black Angus heifers with the economy of movement of a man who knows exactly what he’s willing to pay. His paddle goes up twice, drops, and goes up once more.

He gets them.

Bree makes a face and lets out a groan. “I wasn’t even going to buy anything. I just came to look, but then he says shit, and it gets my back up.”

I stay tight-lipped. It seems like the right thing to do.