The Care and Feeding of an Alpha Male

  But Colt wasn’t Allan. He didn’t chase her out. He wouldn’t chase her, she knew that. He’d never chase her. He’d always let the decision be hers.

  And somehow, that hurt worse than anything. She returned to her salon—her empty, empty salon—that she’d closed during the middle of the day. She’d been gone for hours. She remembered that first weekend, when she’d come back to a voicemail box full of unhappy clients that she’d missed out on. How she’d taken that for granted. She’d kill for a voicemail from just one unhappy client now.

  But her voicemail was empty. And she couldn’t even call Colt to complain. She kept the closed sign flipped, turned the lights off, and went to the back room. Her air mattress was there, and she lay on it, suddenly bone weary and exhausted. Beth Ann grabbed her pillow, clutched it to her chest, and cried.

  She’d never felt more alone or more unloved in her entire life.

  SEVENTEEN

  One week later

  Colt flung a thick section of pipe into the Dumpster. He grabbed a nearby tire and hauled it to the Dumpster as well. Sweat poured down his shirtless, lean body. He’d been out in the sun, working since dawn to clean his father’s property. He’d paid the fines but an inspector was coming by next week. He’d hired a day crew to come by and help, and Marlin would be by as soon as he finished his truck run. That was fine with Colt—this was something he wanted to do himself.

  Next to him, Dane leaned against the Dumpster, chugging at a bottle of water. “Slow down, man. You’re making me tired just watching you.”

  Colt didn’t want to slow down, though. He adjusted his work gloves and grabbed at the item under the tire he’d moved—chicken wire. A whole roll of it. “Needs to get done, Dane. I can rest later.”

  “You’ve been working since sunup without a break, Colt. This isn’t going to get finished in one day.” Dane swiped at his forehead. “And punishing yourself isn’t going to bring her back.”

  Colt glared at his friend. His jaw tightened and he swung the chicken wire into the garbage. “This isn’t about her.”

  “Bullshit,” Dane said easily. “You think I haven’t been where you are? You hurt her. It’s eating you up inside that you hurt her, and so you’re punishing yourself, because you can’t stand the fact that you’re such a dick.” Dane swigged more water, then tilted his head. “Am I right?”

  Colt said nothing. Merely clenched his jaw and went back to work.

  Grant appeared a moment later. He wore an old T-shirt and jeans, and a surgeon’s mask over his nose. “You’re not going to believe what they found back behind the trailer.”

  “Is it Jimmy Hoffa?” Dane joked. “Because I’d believe just about anything else.”

  “Worse. A dead skunk.” He grinned at Dane. “I came to get you because I figured your stink could cover the smell of it.”

  Dane threw his water bottle at Grant, who caught it and threw it back.

  “You two fuck off,” Colt snapped. “We’re trying to clean this shit up, not play games.”

  Grant glanced over at Dane. “Still mad at himself?”

  “Yup,” Dane said lazily.

  Christ. He wanted to punch them both in the face at the moment. Colt clenched his gloved hands and grabbed another tire from the enormous stack. “Either you two help out or get out of here. I’ll do it myself if I have to.”

  “More punishment,” he heard Dane whisper to Grant. “I told him he needs to make it up to her—”

  “I can’t,” Colt ground out, turning to face his friends. “I can’t make it up to her. I fucking hurt her and humiliated her. And she doesn’t want to speak to me, and I don’t blame her. In her eyes, I’m no better than that piece of shit Allan. What do you want me to do, Dane? Buy her something to make her happy again? Because that worked so well for Allan?”

  Dane said nothing. He adjusted his cap lower on his forehead and shrugged.

  “You lied to her,” Grant said slowly. “You can’t change that fact.”

  “What about a big gesture?” Dane said. “I showed my dick to half the damn town to make Miranda happy.”

  Colt leaned against the Dumpster, warring with emotion. Rage that he was still so fucking furious with himself. Annoyance. And gratitude that his friends were ignoring his shitty mood and helping him try to set his life back together.

  Because it had turned into a big pile of shit ever since Beth Ann had left him.

  “Not a big gesture,” Grant said thoughtfully. “Beth Ann doesn’t want a big gesture, if what you’re telling me is true.”

  Colt looked at his friend. “Then what does she want?”

  Grant spread his hands. “She wants to trust you again. Whether or not that’ll happen, she has to decide. You can’t beg her to come back to you.”

  No, he couldn’t. He thought of Allan’s relentless begging. It had only hardened Beth Ann’s heart against him.

  “The only thing you can do,” Grant continued, “is wait patiently for her to come around, and grovel when she does.”

  “Groveling,” said Dane. “Sage advice from the only one of us ever married.”

  A dark current of emotion swept over Grant’s face, and was just as quickly gone. He punched Dane in the arm. “Come on. That skunk’s not going to take care of itself. Let’s give Colt a moment’s peace here.”

  He watched the two men leave, suddenly weary to his bones. He wanted Beth Ann back. Wanted to kiss her smiling face. Touch her hair. And it wasn’t just because his body missed hers. He missed her. Her funny, brave little smiles. Her determination to succeed. Her fearlessness.

  And he’d fucked it all up. He should have told her the truth. But he’d been afraid that he’d lose her. And in the end, he still had—he’d just prolonged it.

  Worst of all, he couldn’t beg her to come back. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—buy her things to sweeten her to him again.

  All he could do was sit and watch the woman he loved and ached for with every fiber of his being walk away from him.

  And Bluebonnet was small. They were bound to run into each other, over and over again. And he wouldn’t be able to do it. He wouldn’t be able to watch her turn away from him with disgust. Watch her smile fade into icy politeness. That wasn’t fair to her, and it’d destroy him.

  He couldn’t stay in Bluebonnet and see that happen.

  “Hey,” he called out to Dane and Grant. When both men turned, he asked, “If I need to head back to Alaska for a while, will you two watch over my dad? Keep him occupied at the ranch?”

  “You’re leaving?” Grant asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

  “I might need to get away for a while,” Colt said, squinting up at the October sun. “Clear out my head, live off the grid for a bit. Lose myself in some mindless tasks for a while.”

  Maybe a year or two. Until the ache went away.

  Grant put his hands on his hips. “Well, I guess so. We can hire another instructor. But you don’t have to leave, you know. We’re all adults. If she can stay in the same town as Allan, you can, too.”

  But he knew how much Allan’s constant presence hurt her. And he knew that if he saw her with someone else, laughing and smiling at another man—or worse, going back to Allan, oh fuck—he was going to lose his shit.

  “Just kind of need to get away, I think. From everything.”

  Grant nodded at him, and then glanced at Dane. “I’ll start asking around for another instructor, then. You take the time you need. Your job’ll be here when you get back.”

  That fucking sissy knot of emotion was back in his throat. He gave a crisp nod to his friends, then reached down and grabbed another tire.

  Someone banged on the salon door. Beth Ann pulled the pillow over her head and ignored it. When the banging came again a few moments later she groaned. “Go away!”

  “It’s me, Miranda,” a voice called. “Open up already. It’s a hair emergency.”

  Dang it. Beth Ann dragged herself into the front of the salon. Through the glass door, sh
e saw Miranda hold up a bottle of wine, and behind her, Brenna held up a pizza, all smiles.

  She unlocked the door and let them in, a reluctant smile tugging at her mouth. “Hair emergency, huh?”

  “Seeing as how I figured you’d been here all week without a shower, I thought the hair emergency was appropriate,” Miranda said, giving Beth Ann’s rumpled pajamas a distasteful look. “I just didn’t say it was my hair emergency.”

  Beth Ann touched her tangled hair. “Thanks. I think.”

  Brenna shut the door behind her and locked it again. “We’re having an official girls’ night in, we decided. Since the boys are all bonding over garbage, we thought we could bond over nail polish and pedicures.” Brenna fluttered her lashes at Beth Ann. “If you’re willing to give us pedicures, of course.”

  She laughed at that. “Don’t tell me you two mooches just came by for free nail polish.”

  “Not free,” Miranda said, and waggled the bottle of wine at her. “We’re paying with booze.”

  “And gossip,” Brenna added. She set the pizza down on an empty chair and dragged Beth Ann toward the barber’s chair. “Sit. We’ll tell you everything we know.”

  She wanted to ask about Colt. No, scratch that, she didn’t. Finding out more about him would just hurt even more. “I don’t care about town gossip.”

  Miranda got out paper cups and began to pour the wine as Brenna grabbed a hair brush and began to tackle Beth Ann’s tangled hair. It made her mouth quirk into a smile—half the time, Brenna’s own hair was so ridiculously wild that it was funny to see her fussing over Beth Ann’s hair.

  “Oh come on,” Miranda said slyly, passing her a paper cup of wine. “You don’t want to hear about the big coupon fiasco over at Cutz?”

  Her stomach clenched painfully. “I know enough about it already.”

  “Well, someone called in an anonymous tip to the mayor, it seems,” Miranda said sweetly, handing a cup of wine to Brenna.

  “Just call me anonymous,” Brenna said with a grin.

  “And,” Miranda continued. “It turns out that our beloved Mayor Williamson was furious that someone was trying to underhandedly run a business out of town, much less his daughter’s business. He’s very proud of his daughter, you see.”

  Beth Ann choked on her sip of wine. She stared up at the women, incredulous and delighted. Her father supported her business? “What? Really?”

  “It’s true,” Miranda said. “I heard he’s been trying to call you all week.”

  She glanced over at her machine. She hadn’t been checking it. She’d closed the salon, and didn’t want to hear from the occasional stray customer. That’d just make things worse. The red light was on, but she’d thought it’d been a jillion calls from Allan. Or Colt, begging her to take him back.

  Her gut clenched, sick at the thought. Sick, because she missed him and hated that she was so weak.

  “Soooo,” Brenna sang, “this Jordan chick had to stop honoring the coupons, immediately. And when her clients found out that they had to pay two hundred dollars for a haircut instead of forty bucks? The shit hit the fan. Her place has been deserted for days.”

  Beth Ann swigged her wine, shaking her head in surprise. She hadn’t noticed. “Wow.”

  “If you’d open your doors,” Miranda said encouragingly, “I’d bet some of your clients would come back.”

  “Oh, oh,” Brenna said, hopping. “And I got six hundred dollars back from your landlord for you.” She pulled a wad of cash out of her bra and shoved it in Beth Ann’s hand. “Guess who was putting the heat on your landlord to raise your rent?”

  “Allan?” she said in a flat voice.

  “Biggest asshole ever,” Brenna singsonged. “Anyhow, your dad went and had a long talk with him and apparently Allan has vowed to leave you alone for a while. I heard he’s dating his secretary.”

  Huh. She was suddenly filled with love and affection for her father. Beth Ann leaned in to get a piece of pizza. How sweet of her dad to step in for her when no one else would, not even Colt.

  She stopped, holding the slice of pizza in her hand and staring at it. She hadn’t told Colt about Allan’s manipulations. She knew what he would have done if he’d have known—and she smiled, picturing Allan with a busted nose and two more black eyes. Strange how Beth Ann could feel such a vicious twist of glee in her stomach at the thought.

  Then again, Colt had protected her before, in the past. He was always very protective of her. He glared at anyone that he thought might be making her uncomfortable.

  An uneasy feeling shivered over her skin. She bit into the pizza, trying not to think about it. She was just trying to paint a sunny picture of Colt, because that was what she always did. Right?

  “Well?” Miranda asked.

  “That is good gossip.”

  “It is,” Brenna agreed, twisting Beth Ann’s long hair into a braid. “What else do you want to hear about?”

  Beth Ann grinned as Miranda grabbed her foot and pulled it into her lap. She pulled out a toe spacer and pushed it between Beth Ann’s toes. So the makeover was going to be her own, was it? Her friends were the best. “What have you got?”

  Miranda thought for a moment. “I could tell you all about who checked out The Joy of Sex from the library. Hint. It’s a man, and he’s eighty.”

  Beth Ann giggled and took another swig of wine.

  “That’s boring,” Brenna proclaimed.

  “Well, do you have anything better?” Miranda said, giving Beth Ann a long-suffering look, and then refilled her paper cup with more wine when Beth Ann held it out.

  “No,” Brenna said. “I’ve been busy following Pop around.”

  “Pop?” Beth Ann asked between sips of wine.

  “Colt’s dad. We call him Pop. Colt set him up in a cabin at the ranch, and now I keep breaking stuff so he has things to do.”

  Beth Ann smiled at that, her heart hurting a little. “That’s sweet.”

  Brenna shrugged, then grinned. “It drives Grant crazy, so I look at it as a personal challenge.”

  She would.

  “Pop’s an old sweetheart, though,” Brenna said with a smile, grabbing the pink strand of Beth Ann’s hair and braiding it separately. “It’s just going to be a challenge keeping him at the ranch when Colt leaves.”

  Her heart stuttered, thudded painfully. “Colt’s leaving?” Her voice was a thready whisper.

  Miranda reached over and poured more wine into Beth Ann’s cup. “Drink up, girl.”

  She looked at Miranda. “Is he really leaving?”

  Her best friend’s eyes were sympathetic. “Dane says he’s having a rough time right now. He’s really upset.”

  He wasn’t the only one, she thought with an ache in her chest.

  “Dane says he’s going back to the cabin in Alaska in a few days. Wants to live off the grid again and all that crap.” Miranda shook her head. “It drives me crazy enough that Dane’s cabin doesn’t have electricity. I can’t imagine living completely out in the middle of nowhere by yourself for months on end.”

  He’d been out there alone before recruiting Dane, licking his wounds after being discharged from the marines. And when Dane had showed up, they’d lived off the grid for a year. She remembered his joke about the mountain man beard.

  Hurt and longing swirled through her. If he left this time, how long would he be gone? Would he miss her? The ache building in her chest told her that she’d miss him intensely. “Oh.”

  Brenna just shrugged. “They love that survival shit. Happy as pigs in mud if you mention you need a fire built. They don’t seem to realize that it’s not fun for anyone else to think they’re stranded.” Her gaze went over to Beth Ann and she grimaced. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you. I just don’t understand why you didn’t say something to me earlier.” She’d seen Beth Ann and Colt together. She’d participated in making Beth Ann’s birthday cake, for crying out loud. And she’d never thought to hint that Colt might b
e with her for shady reasons?

  Brenna shrugged her shoulders. “Because Colt’s my friend, too. And it was so obvious how totally in love he was with you. If I’d have known it’d hurt you like that, I’d have said something, though.”

  It was so obvious how totally in love he was with you. The words echoed in her head, and Beth Ann stared at her cup.

  Miranda took that as a cue to refill it. “It doesn’t change the fact that he lied to her about it,” Miranda said defensively.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Brenna replied. “I thought it was kind of a dick move, but then he seemed so happy about all of it that what could I say? You were happy, too,” she said with a nudge to Beth Ann’s shoulder. “Almost as happy as when he made you that cake.”

  “Cake?” Miranda asked.

  Beth Ann stared at her cup, now full. Judge me by my actions, he’d begged her. I love you and I never meant to hurt you.

  His actions. She thought of the time they’d spent together—his protectiveness of her, his slow, easy smile. The cake he’d made her. Him punching Allan for daring to insult her. The way he cuddled her close after sex. The way he devoured her with his eyes, as if he’d never seen anything half as tempting as her.

  The way he’d looked so uncertain and defensive after he’d dropped her off at her salon after that first weekend. Asking her out, as if certain she was going to turn him down.

  And she’d come on to him while drunk, too. He’d very gently pried her off of his body and held her instead.

  Judge me by my actions.

  A knot formed in her throat. She didn’t know what to think. Her mind and her heart were trying to steer her in different directions. Beth Ann tossed back the remainder of her wine and grimaced at the taste.

  Miranda held out the bottle. “You sure you want more? You never drink much.”

  She took the bottle from Miranda’s hands and swigged directly from it as Brenna laughed. Her skin was prickling with awareness of the alcohol. Good. More and she’d maybe drown out the confusion in her heart. “I’ve turned over a new leaf in the last year,” Beth Ann said. “Not going to be used by men anymore. Not going to let anyone support me but me. Not going to care what others think. And right now, I want to get drunk with my friends.”