The Bad Boy of Redemption Ranch - Maisey Yates Page 0,92
I’ve been a lot happier here. Not with status. Not with money. Just with what I’ve got. With myself. With what little freedom that means. I don’t need to be normal, I don’t need to fit in. Neither do you. That’s not what you’re supposed to do in the world. Fit in. You’re supposed to walk your own path.”
“I thought I was supposed to walk on yours, because you knocked down all the bushes for me or something.” A scowl wound through Emmett’s voice.
“You get the idea,” West said. “I’m trying to make a metaphor.”
“Well, stick to riding lessons. You’re actually okay at that.”
West chuckled. “Thanks for the compliment. Pretty sure that was a compliment.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Emmett said.
“I know it hasn’t been a good road for either of us,” West said. “I know it hasn’t been easy. But you can count on me.” He looked back at the kid. “We’re brothers. And that matters.”
Emmett didn’t say anything. He just nodded. But West had a feeling there was a wealth of meaning in the nod.
He could only hope that it meant he was reaching the kid.
Because he was reaching West somehow, this whole place was reaching him. He felt like he belonged, sure and simple. And it wasn’t the land or the trees or the sky, as much as he liked them. No, it was the people.
His family.
In his mind, pretty brown eyes glittered.
Yeah, this place was really getting to him. Including one particularly pretty police officer.
* * *
IT WASN’T HER birthday that made her feel different. Not this year. She hadn’t even really been thinking about it. But then, she had told her family a long time ago that she didn’t want a big deal made out of her birthday, and they respected that. She wished it weren’t her day off.
She didn’t like sitting around doing nothing on her birthday. Not that she wanted to do a birthday thing. She just wanted to distract herself.
Because sometimes she felt dissatisfied with her years-old sweeping statement that she didn’t want a party or presents or cake. A card with a cute animal on it.
But the other night was a great example of why she didn’t feel like she could. It was just...it was just that she felt like they all had their roles. And it was important that they stuck with them.
Iris had taken her to coffee that morning. Then Pansy had gone back home and done chores. Caught up on cleaning, which she did not do a very good job at.
Come to think of it, she did most of her cleaning on her birthday every year, to distract herself from the fact that she both wanted and would be appalled by a big party.
She was on her hands and knees reaching underneath her couch to see if there was anything down there—there was no reason for there to be, she was just on the quest for busywork—when there was a knock at her door.
She got up, her heart hammering.
It could be her family with a surprise birthday cake. But it wouldn’t be.
Given she had left them under the impression that she didn’t want that.
She made her way to the door and jerked it open. And there he was.
Holding a cake.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s your birthday,” West said. “And I was going to come by anyway, birthday or not.”
“How did you know it was my... How?”
“That is a matter of public record, Officer. These kinds of things are posted on the internet for all to see.”
“You looked me up?”
“I did.”
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “Why?”
“Well, in fairness I looked you up after I ran into your police chief, who mentioned to me that it was your birthday. And I then confirmed it.”
“Why did he...why did he tell you it was my birthday?”
“I imagine he’s aware that we have a connection.”
“How?”
West stepped inside of her house without waiting to be invited in and he touched her cheek with his fingertips. The look in his eyes burned all the way down.
“It’s easy to see, Pansy. To anyone who wants to take a look.”
Heat sizzled through her. “Really?”
She wasn’t exactly horrified by that.
The idea that someone could see that this man wanted her felt special somehow. Wonderful.
“The cake is strawberries and vanilla, I hope you like it. For some reason you seemed like the kind of woman who liked those sorts of flavors. A little bit sweet. A little bit tart.”