Authors: Beth Williamson
Unbridled (11 page)
After opening his briefcase, Mike handed Alex a sheaf of papers. “The will is relatively simple. He made it after Daniel was born, so it’s recent.”
As she took the papers, Connor noticed her hands shook. He didn’t know if it was anger or fear, or perhaps another unnamed emotion coursing through her. She was a myriad of deep corners he had yet to explore.
The only sounds in the office were the muffled noises from outside and the scrape of paper as she read the will once, then twice. Her knuckles whitened with each pass. Connor saw the color drain from her face and he realized she was more than just angry. She was suffering.
“Do you have any questions?” Mike watched her without any expression on his face.
Alex didn’t answer at first. She stared down at the will as a nearly silent, uneven sigh escaped her lips.
“His mother holds the ranch in trust for him, right?”
Connor didn’t have to ask whom she was talking about. Daniel owned the other half of the ranch.
“Yes, until he reaches twenty-one, she holds the power of attorney for him,” Mike answered matter-of-factly.
“So what if I want to sell my half? Do I need her permission?”
Connor’s body tensed even further. This was what he wanted, to buy her half of the ranch, so why did he feel as though he wanted to tell her not to sell? It made no sense whatsoever. How could he reach his dream if he closed the door on it?
“Are you interested in selling?” Mike’s voice had hardened a little. He didn’t know Alex or anything about her relationship with Grant. Connor didn’t know much but he knew it was complicated.
“Maybe. This ranch isn’t my home anymore. I don’t know what it is.” Alex glanced at Connor and he saw the raw pain in her eyes. She looked back down at the will.
He wanted to pull her into his arms. Foolish man.
“If you decide you want to sell, you would need to review the state laws regarding this type of situation and procure an attorney. Since I was Grant’s attorney, I’m Claire and Daniel’s now. You’d want to protect your interests.” What Mike didn’t say was he wouldn’t help her break up Finley’s, but Connor heard it anyway.
Alex either didn’t hear or chose to ignore it. “Then I’ll look into getting my own attorney.”
“There’s one more thing.” Mike pulled out an envelope and held it out for Alex. “He left this for you.”
Connor would have sworn she couldn’t get any paler, but as her gaze settled on the envelope, she looked like a glass of milk. He was afraid she’d run to the bathroom again to vomit. Connor readied himself to follow her, then realized what he was doing.
He was preparing to take care of her. Well, holy fucking shit.
“I don’t want it.”
“It’s yours whether you want it or not, Miss Finley.” Mike put the envelope on the desk in front of her. “I’m going to find Bernice and get some coffee. Connor, you can find me in the mess hall.”
The attorney left the room, obviously unwilling to be there with Alex any longer. Grant had been loved by everyone, including Mike. As a young attorney, he’d been given a chance to make his career by the rancher. Loyalty to Grant Finley ran deep, even after his death.
Alex stared at the envelope, then stood so abruptly, it slid toward Connor. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
He didn’t get a word in before she ran out the door. It wasn’t even eleven in the morning and he was already caught up in Alex’s pain.
Connor finally finished his work after nine p.m. Bernice had disapprovingly brought him dinner at seven, for which he’d been absurdly grateful. He’d missed lunch, and the food was absolutely delicious in his lonely office.
The main building was quiet, with only the soft murmur of a few guests near the fireplace. He nodded to Jeremiah, the night clerk, as he stepped out the door. The moon was a bright coin in the velvet black sky. He shivered as the cool air surrounded him, made him wish he’d actually brought a coat.
The hot coffee that morning had warmed him up so much he hadn’t thought to bring one. Now he regretted the lack as he walked to his cabin, his breath coming in white puffs.
The horses were all in the barns, likely with their jackets on and ready for the cool fall night. The music of the night creatures filled his ears as he walked, his boots the only other sound.
Until he heard a woman’s voice somewhere in the distance. He stopped and cocked his head to listen. The voice was far away, near the hill that led to the fishing hole, perhaps near the family cemetery. Somehow he knew it was Alex even before he turned to follow the sound. She hadn’t reappeared since she’d left his office in the morning. He had tried not to think about where she was, unsuccessfully.
As he got closer, he realized it was definitely Alex and, if he wasn’t mistaken, she’d been drinking. He shivered as he approached her location. She was in the cemetery, which meant she was either visiting her mother or yelling at her father. His money was on the latter, considering she’d had a gander at his will that morning.
The moon painted the hill in silver, outlining the sole human occupant aboveground. She was pacing back and forth, the glint of a bottle in her hand. He could almost smell the bourbon, apparently her drink of choice.
At first he was going to simply walk up and make her go back to the VIP cabin; then he thought twice and decided to see what she was doing out there first. For all he knew, she might simply need to visit her parents’ graves. Fat chance, but it was still a possibility.
He stood just out of her sight, but close enough to hear her. At first it was just mumbling, but then her words grew sharper and louder.
“I mean, Jesus Christ, Daddy, how do you expect me to handle this? I don’t want to like Claire and I sure as hell don’t want to like Daniel. Although I’m sure he was everything you wanted and finally got.” Her voice caught on a small sob. “You’re going to force me to stay here a year before I can sell. What kind of shit is that? I don’t want to stay here. I want to be somewhere else, anywhere else.”
Connor immediately felt guilty for eavesdropping on her private moment. But if he stood up then, she would see him and it would make matters worse. Her circle widened and she came within ten feet of him. He was stuck right where he was until she was finished. That would teach him to meddle in her life.
“I came home to have it out with you and here I am shouting at your gravestone. How ironic is that? You predicted I’d take so many risks I’d put myself in an early grave, and guess what? It wasn’t me. You beat me to it.”
She took too many risks? Connor wondered exactly what that meant. Obviously Grant had disapproved.
Alex swung her arms wide. “Nope, I’m the lucky one who’s a fucking orphan. Little Orphan Alex.” A strangled chuckle sounded. “Well, let me tell you, the sun will not come out tomorrow. The sun might not ever come out.”
She fell to her knees, the bottle forgotten on the grass beside her knees. “I just wanted to know why. Why did you leave us? Why did you think I was something to throw away?”
Her voice was so full of agony, Connor closed his eyes and tried to block it out. He’d definitely made a mistake and was paying for it now. Alex didn’t need him intruding on her private thoughts, and he sure as hell didn’t need to hear just how much pain she was in.
It reminded him too much of himself ten years ago.
Connor got to his feet, making enough noise that she heard him. It was enough to stop her tirade, thank God.
“Who’s there?”
“It’s Connor. C’mon, Alex, let me walk you back to the cabin.”
She snorted. “Connor? Ah, the first son of the great Grant Finley. Did you know he always wanted a son? That’s why he named me Alex—not Alexandra, just Alex.” Her laugh sounded more like a sob.
Connor picked up the bottle and dumped it out into the grass, then held out his hand. “You’re drunk again.”
She sighed, long and hard. “I know. I wasn’t intending on drinking but somebody left that primo hooch in the cabin, and after that lawyer left, whew! I needed a drink.”
Connor wondered what Alex had been doing in the hours in between but didn’t ask. If she wanted to tell him, she would. He managed to get her to her feet, but she was staggering.
“How much did you drink, anyway?” He struggled to keep her upright. This was too familiar, a complete déjà vu from four days ago.
“Too much. Not enough. I dunno.” She grabbed hold of his shirt. “You are freakin’ hot, Connor. You make my nipples pop whenever I catch a whiff of that cologne or see you in those tight jeans. Dayum, man, seriously nice package.”
Unbelievably, Connor felt his cheeks heat. How the hell this tiny, buxom woman with a penchant for bourbon made a man like him blush was beyond explanation.
“Glad you like it. Now, let’s get you in the cabin.” He dropped the empty bottle on the side of the trail, making a mental note to retrieve it before the morning fishermen passed by.
Before they’d made it twenty feet, he was ready to strangle Alex. She was a sloppy drunk, one who had a big mouth and didn’t know when to shut up. At thirty feet, he’d had enough and simply picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, fireman style.
She whooped and made a choking noise as her stomach pressed against his shoulder. He hoped she wouldn’t yak all over his back. That would be a perfect end to a fucked-up day, though.
As he punched in the combination to open the gate to the VIP cabin, she seemed to come back to life.
“That’s my birthday, you know.”
“What’s your birthday?” He set her on her feet so he could get the front door open.
“The combination.” She pointed shakily at the gate. “He didn’t forget me, Connor.”
Connor didn’t want to look at her, but he did anyway. In her blue eyes he saw ancient pain and grief so sharp, it cut into him. Grant had not done right by this girl—that was for certain—but it wasn’t Connor’s place to judge his friend. She had to work it out for herself, but she also had to stop drinking.
They made it inside and she pulled his head down for a kiss. She tasted of booze, desperation and longing—the wrong mixture. Connor broke the kiss and held her at arm’s length.
“I’m not going to repeat what we did yesterday on my desk. You need to drink some water and then get some sleep.” Ignoring her protests, he gave her a bottle of water from the minibar and pushed her toward the bedroom.
She sat down and struggled to unlace the silly boots she wore. “Help me, Connor.”
With a thespian-worthy sigh, he removed her boots, again. Then, with as much objectivity as he could muster, he managed to get her down to her panties and T-shirt. Her breasts were simply glorious in the moonlight streaming through the window, but he knew it wasn’t the time or the place. Alex had too many issues to work through for him to climb under the sheets with her.
She cupped his cheek. “You’re too nice for me. I need to be punished. I need a bad boy.” She kissed him hard.
“Yep, I am a nice guy—now, drink the water.”
She made a face but dutifully finished the water, then climbed into bed. It was strange to be tucking her in, but that was just what Connor did. The day had started out on a strange note, and here it was ending on an even stranger one.
Alex looked up at him, her eyes luminous in the semidarkness of the room. “I like you, Galahad.”
His heart did a complete somersault as the earth moved beneath his feet. “You’re still drunk.”
“I’m sober enough to know what I’m saying. I’ll regret saying it, but it won’t change the fact that it’s true.” She touched his cheek. “You’re so perfect, it makes my heart hurt to look at you.”
Connor shook his head. “I’m far from perfect, Alex. I wasn’t always the upstanding businessman. Believe me, I was inches away from spending my life in prison when, uh, when I got the opportunity here at Finley’s.”
He’d almost told her Grant had saved his life, but it wasn’t the right time for sharing that particular piece of information.
“Ah, but you have a good heart. A gentleman, a knight, a cowboy.” She smiled, and he saw the woman behind the anger, and knew that he could fall for her if he wasn’t careful. They were more alike than she realized.
“Good night, Alex.” He started to rise but she pulled him down.
“You must kiss me good night, Galahad.”
It was the third time she’d called him that. Obviously Maid Alex had a thing for Camelot. “Nope, just go to sleep.”
“Not gonna sleep unless I get a kiss.” She had morphed into coy and mischievous.
Connor, recognizing a losing battle, leaned down and brushed a kiss on her cheek. “Good night, Alex.”
To his surprise she didn’t protest the chaste kiss or push for a deeper one. She snuggled down into the covers and he sat there, oddly comforted by the fact he had made sure she was safe again.
Grant would be proud of him.
Alex woke suddenly, instantly awake in the plush, pillowed bed. She sat straight up and looked around, confused by her surroundings. The entire previous day rushed through her memory and she flopped back on the bed and groaned.
Interestingly enough, she didn’t have a hangover, although she distinctly remembered swilling bourbon straight from the bottle. There was the fucking lawyer, the cemetery, the moon and . . . Connor. Again.
Did the man have nothing better to do than rescue her from her own stupidity? Apparently not, judging by the fact that he’d brought her home and tucked her in again. She wished he’d done more than tuck her in, especially after getting a taste of just how passionate he was.
Alex knew they were very compatible sexually and wanted to explore that relationship further. She didn’t need to have something long-term to enjoy herself. In fact, she’d done her best to avoid deep relationships, but she had developed trust with her partners over the years.
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