Ginger's Heart - Katy Regnery Page 0,6

drawer were any indication—married her, and stayed in Apple Valley to raise their son.

Meanwhile, Cain’s Aunt Sophie, his mother’s twin, had married the fucking president of the Apple Valley Savings and Loan a month before his parents, and the entire town acted like their wedding was the second coming. (How did he know this? Well, for one thing, those wedding pictures weren’t hidden in a sweater drawer. About three hundred and eighty six gazillion of them were in ornate silver frames, jammed together on the grand piano at his aunt’s house.) And actually, no, the wedding wasn’t the second coming. That blessed event had come nine months later, when Josiah—fair-fucking-haired Josiah—was born. Josiah, who loved horses so much, he had slowly but surely become the son that Klaus had never had in Cain. While Cain was always running off to smoke cigarettes behind the Five and Dime Mart or meet girls at the abandoned distillery, goody-two-shoes Josiah—or Woodman, as everyone called him—was at McHuid’s, becoming Klaus’s right-hand man. And while Cain had no actual proof that his father loved Josiah more than him, he was pretty sure it was true. And while he didn’t hate Josiah for it (his father was owed that honor), he couldn’t deny that it hurt.

So his parents’ marriage was doomed from the start, he was just short of a bastard, his aunt and uncle were local celebrities, and Woodman was worshipped almost as much as the baby Jesus.

Fuckin’ fantastic.

Last but not least, ring-a-ding-fuckin’-ding, while Klaus’s marriage was a bust, his partnership with Ranger McHuid was a horse-breeding match made in heaven. In fact, as the years passed, the McHuid horses had become such a passion for Cain’s father that his wife and son became little more than an afterthought in his life. And it made Cain hate his father and hate horses. Add Ranger McHuid’s ambivalence toward him and Miz Magnolia’s refusal to include him and his family in her stupid parties since the year Ginger broke her arm, he pretty much hated everything about McHuid’s.

Well, everything . . . except Ginger.

“Be smart, Gin,” said Woodman.

Cain snorted, looking at his cousin in his fancy-pants party shirt. “You think your scrawny arms gonna catch her?”

Woodman frowned, his brows creasing, and Cain had it in him to feel bad. Even though Klaus appeared to prefer his nephew over his son, which had set up a natural rivalry between them, Cain couldn’t bring himself to hate Josiah. Without the benefit of a brother or sister, Woodman was all he had, and deep down Cain loved his cousin as much as he could love anyone in the world. Woe to the fucker who messed with Josiah ’cause Cain would end him, but that didn’t mean that he himself didn’t love getting under Woodman’s skin a little.

Cain pulled off his denim jacket and flexed his muscles, winking at Ginger. “Jump to me, sweet thing.”

Woodman scowled at him before turning his eyes back to Ginger. “Come on, now.”

Something in Woodman’s voice—something sappy—distracted Cain, and he turned to his cousin, narrowing his eyes as he noted the earnest look in Woodman’s eyes and the rigidity of his open palms as he stared up with devotion at the little girl in the hayloft door. Ginger had always been like a little sister to them, but something in Woodman’s voice felt different. And it definitely didn’t feel very brotherly.

Cain glanced up at Ginger, then back at his cousin’s devoted expression.

Nah, he thought quickly. She’s just a kid. Woodman doesn’t like her like that. He couldn’t. She’s just a kid. Just Princess Ginger.

But he looked at his cousin’s face yet again, and as the unavoidable truth sank in, he kept himself from rolling his eyes. How had Cain missed this? All those times Woodman had Heath saddled and ready for Ginger with an eager smile . . . or spent an extra hour combing the chocolate-colored mare . . . or hell, the way he always insisted on mucking out Heath’s stall before Ginger came down to the barn . . . Well, Cain had just assumed that he was being his usual eager-beaver self. But, oh Lord, there was more to it. It was for Ginger. Woodman liked her. Liked a kid. Liked the little princess.

Smirking with amusement, Cain decided to test his theory, winking at Ginger before training his eyes on Woodman to gauge his cousin’s reaction.

“Jump to the one you love the most, darlin’,” he called.

Sure enough, Woodman’s jaw clenched, and his