West of Forever (Heartstone Ranch #1)(22)

Okay, so he has a point there. I hate all this. We’re neighbors. There shouldn’t be this hatred between us. No one is saying we need to be friends, but this…is out of control. I reach my hand out over the fence, resting it on his forearm.

“I don’t think you’re doing it. If it counts for anything.”

Tristan glances down where my hand is touching him and back into my eyes. His deep brown eyes bore into mine. “It counts.”

It does.

Shit.

I pull back, regretting the dumb impulse to touch him. I can’t touch Tristan Stone. I might turn into an alien or something, if the folklore is true. Space. That’s what I need. I step back and force a smile. “I’ll see you around.”

“Do me a favor. Tell your family to stop calling the cops.”

I wish it were that simple. “Tell yours to stop vandalizing our property.”

He grins. “I’m going to put up cameras to prove it isn’t us.”

“That would probably be the only way they’d believe it.” I keep moving backward, away from his intoxicating smile and soulful eyes that I do not want to get lost in. Thank you very much.

“Even then…” he says with a laugh. “They might not.”

I shrug. “I guess we’ll see.”

“I guess we will.”

“Hey, Lark?” Tristan calls out, and I hate the way my heart beats a little faster.

“What?”

“What do I get when I prove it’s not us?”

Oh, the things I would like to offer. None of them are possible. None of them will ever freaking happen, but the idea of them lives rent-free in my head.

“The satisfaction of being right,” I suggest.

“I think you’ll owe me something else.”

Somehow I fight the urge to ask what he has in mind. I just grin. “You’ll have to prove it first.” Then I turn and don’t look back, or I might make a big mistake.









Chapter 7





Tristan




It’s been the week from hell.

Two sales fell through because the buyers didn’t want to pay a delivery fee, insisting that I drive nine hours to deliver the horses—for free.

Another fell short due to the other farm’s budget constraints, which wouldn’t be a big deal if we hadn’t had another buyer who made an offer we had to refuse, who then went and bought other horses.

Sadie is still being ornery and picking fights with me. She’s sweet as pie to my sisters and her grandad, but me—I’m the worst.

I need to check on the horses, and then I’m going to the bar with Jimmy to complain about the status of my life.

When I get outside, I see someone on the roof of the barn, but not just anyone, my freaking eighty-one-year-old father.

“Dad!” I yell, rushing that way. To what? I don’t know—catch him if he falls. “What the hell are you doing?”

He glances down at me. “I’m fixing the roof. What the hell does it look like I’m doing?”

Trying to kill yourself.

“You can’t be up on the roof.”

He scoffs. “Says who?”

“Says the doctor after you broke your wrist a year ago when you thought you could cut a tree down—alone.”

Let’s say the score was…tree 1, Dad 0.

“Ah, what does he know? I’m fit as a fiddle.”

“And dumb as rocks,” I say under my breath.

“Huh?”

Also partially deaf, which we all use to our benefit at times like these. “Nothing. Get down. I’ll fix the roof.”

“You have enough to worry about. This is my farm,” he argues.

Six years ago my father suffered a heart attack. Knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to continue in the way he had, he signed the farm over to the four of us. I took the majority share so that I could run the farm, but my sisters each split the remaining shares. Neither of them wanted to run it, and they agreed it was the best way to handle things.

So, technically, this is my farm, but he’d probably grow wings to fly over here and kill me if I remind him of that fact.

“Dad, you can’t be on the damn roof. Where is Harper?” I ask. Harper’s job is to watch Dad. Clearly she’s on a break.

“Who knows. I told her I was going to nap.”

Of course he did.

“So you lied?”

He scoffs. “I did nap, and then I woke up.”

I move the ladder to an easier spot and climb up. “Come on,” I urge him.

My father, stubborn as ever, crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m fixing the damn roof, Tristan. I’ll get down when I’m done.”

Well, I can’t fucking leave him here. He’ll fall, die, and I’ll live with even more grief than I already do over people getting hurt. I sigh, climb up with him, and look at the spot he was working on. I don’t see any holes or obvious signs that there’s an issue.

“There’s nothing wrong with the roof.”

He looks around, pursing his lips. “It’s leaking.”

“Where?”

“How the hell should I know?”