I mean separated. My family bought acres of ranch land about six months ago, and we created this lodge to live in as we figured out the best way to work the land. We have one ranch house already, that I’ve lived in since I supervised the construction of this lodge, the barns, and garages, and now we’re mapping out the rest of the property.”
Well, that made sense. “So this lodge is kind of like a country club?”
He snorted, looking into his coffee cup. “No. We have country clubs and golf courses . . . somewhere. This is a lodge for us. We haven’t named it. So far, we’ve come up with Cattle Club, Ranch House, or The Lodge. But Wyatt thinks those all sound like cathouses, so . . .”
“Oh.” The place looked more like a fraternity house with suites to her. “All right. So you ride horses and party. Makes sense.” Then she shook her head. “It’s kind of like one of those motorcycle clubs with rooms and patches, but you guys ride horses instead of motorcycles?”
“Baby.” That tone. When he spoke with that drawl, it just wasn’t fair, and he seemed to know just how good it sounded. “We ride horses, motorcycles, dirt bikes, Razors, four-wheelers, and snowcats. If it can be ridden, we ride it.” He jerked his head back.
She looked above the bar, where a hand-carved sign held that very motto. Heat slid into her face. Was that supposed to be an innuendo?
The outside door opened and two extra-broad men walked inside, along with plenty of rain and wind. They were nearly identical—definitely twins. The first guy held her suitcase along with her purse.
“It’s crap out there,” he said, setting them down on a chair. He paused, his gaze flicking down Hallie’s bare legs. “Hello.”
Trent’s sigh was loud. “Hallie, meet my brothers Zachary and Zeke Snowden.”
“Brothers?” she asked, tilting her head.
“We bonded and became family in the . . . military,” Trent said.
“I’m Zachary. The good-looking one.” Zachary stepped forward to shake hands. He was tall with twinkling brown eyes and even darker hair, and he had to be early thirties? His rugged face showed open affection, and with the brown Stetson on his head and a beige jacket, he was all cowboy. An old scar ran from beneath his right ear, down his neck, to disappear under his shirt.
Zeke gave her a nod, his eyes not twinkling, his hat black. He had a couple of scars across his right temple that looked like a blade had cut deep. Even so, serious hottie, and she couldn’t tell them apart except for the scars and differing expressions.
That was one heck of a gene pool.
Zeke tossed keys at Trent, who snatched them easily out of the air with one broad hand. “Pulled the car out early this morning and took it to Mac’s Garage in town. The control arms are mangled,” Zeke said.
Hallie swiveled. “On my car?”
Zeke’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah.”
“Why are you telling him and not me?” She didn’t have a lot of power there in a borrowed T-shirt, old boxers, and bare feet, but come on.
Zeke actually focused fully on her this time. His eyebrows returned to their normal spot on his hunky face, and his eyes warmed. “Trent texted me this morning and asked us to pull the car out of the mud and check it out. So we did.”
She cleared her throat. “That was kind of you. What do I owe you for towing services?”
The warmth spread from Zeke’s eyes to his full mouth, which tipped in a grin. “It’s on the house, darlin’.”
She’d never been called so many endearments in her entire life. “Thanks.” Then she glanced at Trent, trying to stay calm. Somewhat. “Do you know what control arms are and where I can get some?”
His grin tugged something unidentifiable low in her belly. “I’m sure Mac ordered some.”
“Yep,” Zachary said, looking around the demolished room. “Said he’d have them in a week and be able to install them in a day or so.”
Panic slid down her throat. “Oh.” She had no car, no money, and no control arms. What the heck were control arms? She stared into her nearly empty mug, her mind spinning.
“When does Wyatt get home? We need to take care of stuff around here,” Zeke said.
“Soon,” Trent said, his gaze on her.
Zachary lost the grin. “Is everything . . . okay with him?”
“Affirmative,” Trent said. “We have enough business to worry about around here. For example, the Newberys