Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(30)

Hands on her hips, eyes wide in disbelief, Dakota turns to me. “Don’t talk to my sister like that.”

“Yeah,” Fallon says. “I don’t need the likes of you telling me what I ought to do.”

I groan, unsure how I’m suddenly the bad guy.

Both sisters round on me. And on my emotions. “One of us will punch you,” Fallon snarls. “And the other will run you over with our truck. Take your pick.”

“Enough,” Stede roars, hand lifted. His voice cracks from the effort. “This shit stops now.”

The sisters freeze.

Fallon swears.

Dakota flinches.

Stede’s disapproval coats the room. “I reckon you both got issues, but now is not the time, and it sure isn’t the damn place.”

Dakota and I share a look. Stede McGraw, pissed as hell, is a sight to see. Never in my life have I seen him raise his voice, and judging by the looks on his daughter’s faces, it’s been a long time for them, too.

“You girls are my heart, my soul, but damn if you’re not breaking both of them the way you’re acting.”

“Daddy,” Dakota whispers, hands clasped to her heart.

Even Fallon looks shamefaced.

“Fallon, you’re angry with Dakota. Talk it out on your own fucking time.” A mischievous smile ghosts his lips. “And I’ll give you the right place to do it, too.” Stede looks at Dakota. “You need a job, daydreamer. You come work at the store.”

Dakota inhales, sharp.

I drag a hand down my face, swearing under my breath. What the old man is thinking by sticking his daughters together is beyond me. They’ll either make up, or they’ll destroy the entire fucking world.

“Daddy, no,” Fallon says, her face creasing with panic.

Stede holds up a hand, silencing them both. “I love you both. But get it the fuck together.”

Fallon and Dakota stare at each other. Traitor, Fallon’s wild hazel eyes say.

“This way, you two can spend some time together,” Stede continues. “Fallon, you can keep your lessons going with Wyatt before you head to Calgary in the summer, and Dakota can work at the store.”

Fallon’s eyes are now on the toes of her boots, the tips of her ears pink. She stopped taking lessons from Wyatt two months ago. He’s been bitching about it ever since she went MIA from the ranch.

It’s bad enough I have Dakota to worry about. Now I have to worry about what’s running Fallon wild.

“Davis has a job, the ranch,” Dakota begins. “He can’t—”

“I can,” I say. “It’s the off-season. Charlie and Ford can handle the ranch. I’ll park myself at the station. It’s right across the street.”

I don’t like her being out in the open, but she’s right. She can’t stay on the ranch forever. If I can give her some normalcy, even for a moment, I’ll do it.

Dakota’s lower lip sticks out in a pout. She hates the idea. I can see it on her face. Finally, she relents and smiles at Stede. “Sounds like a plan, Daddy.”

“I’m happy to hear that, baby girl.” He takes a brisk step forward, then turns to amble toward the elevator. “You two are both adults. Figure out what problems you got because I won’t be around forever.”

“Fine. Here.” Fallon shoves a ring of keys at Dakota. When Stede’s out of earshot, she hisses, “Fix your fucking face before you come in.”

Dakota stands frozen, hands gripping the keys. She blinks back tears as she turns on her heel and rushes out of the lobby.

“Nice fucking work,” I growl, glaring at Fallon.

“Fuck you, Davis.” She flips me off on the way to the elevator.

I swear under my breath and follow after Dakota.

These sisters are going to be the death of me.




A pregnant Dakota in tears has my blood pressure skyrocketing.

I catch her as she’s crossing onto Main Street. The bright blue sky of the winter afternoon is fading. It’ll be dark in less than four hours.

“Your sister’s a pain in my ass,” I tell her dryly.

She keeps trudging ahead, hand in her pocket. “I can’t be sure she isn’t a feral gremlin with attitude issues.”

I smile. But it soon fades after I inspect Dakota’s face. She looks like she’s hanging on by her last thread.

“You okay?”

I immediately curse myself. It’s the dumbest thing I can ask. No, she’s not okay, Montgomery. Around Dakota, a word, a touch—it all comes out wrong.

“No.” She stops abruptly and leans back to look at me. Tears stream down her face. “I’m not.”

On instinct, I grab her shoulders and she huddles into my chest. Warm. Soft. Shaking.

“Lunch,” I order, and she lifts her face. Even with the dark smudges beneath her eyes, she’s too beautiful for words. “You hungry?”

She sniffles. “I’m always hungry.”

“Let’s go.” Keeping an arm around her slender shoulders, I steer her toward a red-bricked building at the end of the block.

She hesitates, stopping when we get to the front door.

“What happened to the bakery?” she asks, staring up at the sign that reads the Little Star Diner.