everyone, and you agreed—”
“I didn’t agree to anything,” she said. “I told you the truth. Finally. And the truth hurts, I know. Just because I’m not on the college track or dating whatever preppy dude you approve of, doesn’t mean I’m a screwup. I don’t belong in a place with addicts and women who are one step away from jail.”
Westin’s ears were ringing; he really should let these two siblings be. If there was one thing he learned from having a mom and sister, it was to never, ever take sides. His smartest move was to listen and never give advice. After an argument, his sister and mom would be bosom buddies again in another day or two, and Westin would be left completely bewildered.
But here, now, he had to say something. He knew enough about Kellie Prosper’s ranch to know it wasn’t a drug rehabilitation center. In fact, he’d read some of the literature. On his last visit to Lost Creek, he’d attended one of their dinner events right before the rodeo. Had met some very nice women. One was dealing with the loss of a child, the other had been in an accident that resulted in the loss of one of her hands. Every woman he’d met was dealing with grief, change, and redefining the direction of their lives.
No one had a jail sentence hanging over their heads.
“Hold up,” he said, lifting a hand. “If I might say a thing or two.”
Silvia turned her heated gaze on him, and if she’d had a hot poker, he wouldn’t be surprised if she would have gladly stabbed it in his heart. Axel’s gaze was quite different—his was desperate, as if he were a man in need of a lifeboat in a raging river.
“Are you talking about Broken Hearts Ranch, run by Kellie Prosper?” Westin said.
Silvia blinked, and Axel nodded, then said, “That’s the one.”
“Of course, you’ve heard about it,” Silvia bit out. “You being a cowboy and all. Tell my brother that I won’t fit in.” The angry heat from her eyes had switched on a dime to a desperate, pleading look that was rightfully tugging at Westin’s heart.
He had to look away from her. Stop being a softy toward this beautiful, petite woman.
“I’ve met several of the women at the ranch.” Westin lowered his voice and focused on Silvia’s deep brown eyes. “They’re not addicts or one step away from a jail sentence. In fact, one recent resident is a retired veteran. They’re lovely women who just need a new beginning, a second chance. Kellie Prosper gives that to them. They come out here, in the middle of nowhere, away from their former heartaches, and well . . . they begin to heal.”
He continued, “Kellie Prosper is one of the most kind-hearted, intelligent women I know, and her brother, Ryan, is one of my best friends. We went to college together right up the road, and we both rode for the rodeo team. Did all our training here in Lost Creek—a town that’s small enough to spit across. But rodeo has been in its blood for generations, and it’s as decent a town as you’ll find anywhere in Texas.”
Both siblings were staring at him. Axel nodded for Westin to continue. Silvia didn’t look exactly pleased, but at least she wasn’t yelling at her brother anymore.
Westin continued, and for some reason, he hoped Silvia would change her mind. There was so much anger in her young self, making it plain to him that she was hurting something fierce, and it went deep. “Ryan was injured a while back in a bull ride. His career is over with. You can say if anyone in Lost Creek has a broken heart, it’s him. And his sister, Kellie? She’s a sweetheart if there ever was one. Has her own tragic past to get over. Lost babies to miscarriages, then her husband decided he’d had enough and left her.”
Silvia bit her lip, her brows tugged together as if she was trying to take in all that he was saying.
Westin swallowed, his throat suddenly papery. “If there was a place for guys, I’d go there in a heartbeat. Instead, I travel the country, just me and my truck, beating up my body riding bulls. I don’t know if I’m chasing my father’s ghost or running from it.” He tried to smile, but it didn’t happen. “Kellie has already told me in no uncertain terms, no men allowed in her therapy groups.”
“I’m sorry about your dad,”