Steal Her Heart (Kaid Ranch Shifters #1)(7)

“What do you have that I need to steal?” Bryson yelled, stepping forward. “What do you have that I can’t get for my damn self?”

“A ranch!” Wes yelled, face turning crimson. When Hunter backed off, Wes yanked back the reins and pulled his horse in a tight circle. “That’s why you came sniffing here for a job, right?”

“You put an ad in the paper, you dipshit.”

Hunter tried to quiet the fight. “He’s right, Wes, we hired him.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Wes and Bryson yelled at the same time. Peacemakers, man. He was interrupting a good argument.

“Y’all go on and kill each other then,” Hunter muttered, throwing his hands up and walking away. “I ain’t stitching you up again, though! Y’all can bleed out for all I care.”

Bryson rounded on Wes. “You hired me to do a job. I do the job. I don’t make trouble.”

“You’ve killed three cows and our good bull this year, you sack of shit. That ain’t your job. That’s the opposite of your job.”

“And how many have I saved? Huh?” Bryson yelled.

“Where’s our cows?” Wes screamed, trying to control his spooked horse.

“My cows are at my new ranch,” Bryson snarled, pushing away from the trailer and toward the cattleman’s cabin he lived in.

“Your ranch?”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ told you, Wesley, you ain’t got nothing I need to steal. You never did. And by the way?” he yelled, turning back to him. “Guess what’s been murdering the herd on the Willow Switch Ranch. Guess!”

“I don’t fuckin know!”

“Wolves!”

Wes reared back, the rage on his face dissipating in an instant. Softer, he said, “There ain’t no wolves in these parts.”

Bryson huffed a single, humorless laugh. None of them had ever talked about what they were, but it wasn’t a secret either. Not to the three of them. He could smell the dog on them, and they could smell the bear on him.

“You and I both know that ain’t true.” He made his way toward Wes and said, “Whoooah,” as he gripped Rango’s reins. The horse was prancing, stressed. Bryson petted his sweating neck gently and looked up at Wes. “You and Hunter kill a single cow from my new herd, and I’ll gut you both.”

“It wasn’t us,” Hunter said from behind him. Honesty rang clear in his voice.

He stood there ten yards off, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes on Wes. And whatever they said to each other with that look, Bryson didn’t know. All he knew was he’d never seen the Kaid brothers look scared before now.

“If it ain’t you, then who?” Bryson asked.

The sound of a roaring truck engine blasting their way had all of them turning their attention to the road. An old cream and champagne colored Ford came barreling down the dirt drive a few seconds later like a bat out of hell, slipping and sliding this way and that as it hit the muddy potholes.

“Who the hell is that?” Hunter asked.

About that time, the truck got close enough in range that Bryson could see the driver. And she. Looked. Pissed.

Today was turning out to be eternal. Bryson pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the oncoming headache. He needed a beer. And sleep. Or death at this point would be preferable to dealing with the hellion who was skidding to a stop in front of them, fishtailing muddy water in an ugly rainbow as she went.

The truck creaked as it rocked to a stop, and out she got—his new business partner, Maris.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, her dark brown eyes lookin’ like they had hell’s flames in them.

Bryson unhanded Rango’s reins and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Nothing.” Definitely not about to get in another fight with his boss.

“I don’t need your charity!”

“What the hell are you goin’ on about, woman?” Wes asked from atop his settling horse.

“None of your fuckin’ business.” She tossed him a right-furious look and stomped her way to the other side of her truck. Bryson snorted. Never in his three years working here had he ever seen anyone pop off at Wes like that…besides him. And Wes didn’t do anything about it! He just sat on his horse, looking stunned. Up until the point Maris yanked her truck door open and pulled a cow out of the front seat. A cow. One three-month-old Angus calf hit the ground and took off running down the driveway.

“What the hell are you doing?” Wes asked.

“Returning the cows to him!” She’d said “him” like a cussword and had jammed a finger at Bryson, who was pursing his lips so she wouldn’t see his smile. Smiles at a woman’s anger pissed them off even more and turned them into demons. He’d learned that.

God, she was a looker. Flowing, straight hair the color of dark chocolate, freckles on her cheeks because the woman had smeared her make-up off either crying or raging, he didn’t know. She had dark smudges from her mascara under her eyes and full lips that were saying something he probably should be paying attention to, but he couldn’t on account of her wrestling the cow out of her truck had pulled her V-neck shirt down low enough to expose really perky cleavage and the edge of a black lace bra.

Something wet hit him square in the face.

“Ha ha ha,” Hunter laughed.