“Fine.” He rubbed his temple. “When are you leavin’?”

“I’m not sure. So you’ll be wanting these. Here”—she tossed him the keys and he caught them with one hand—“your truck is parked in front of the house.”

He gave her a cool appraisal before he pushed off from where he’d been leaning against his pickup. He spoke to Les. “Come on. We’ve gotta get a move on and fix this mess with the Hendersons.”

No good-bye. No anything. On wooden legs, Harper climbed in her car and drove off, without any idea where she was going.

Had she really come just for her check?

Jesus, that pissed him off.

He waited until her piece-of-shit car was on the highway before he stomped to the barn.

“Where you goin’?” Les demanded.

Away from you so I can think.

Bran didn’t respond. Livid, and more flustered than he cared to admit, he spun around and headed back the way he’d just come—straight to his truck. Ignoring Les’s shouts, he tore out of there, spewing gravel and curse words.

Goddammit. Contrary to Les’s opinion, Bran hadn’t blamed her for the bulls’ getting out. It’d been an ongoing problem and he hadn’t dealt with it because for too long he’d played the part of the laid-back rancher. No more would he let his clueless, less-than-neighborly neighbors dictate a stupid policy that no one else in their right mind would’ve agreed to.

No more. He would pin Stan Henderson’s ass to the wall, but not when he was in such a piss-poor mood.

He parked and got back to work digging post holes for a new fence. Hard physical labor that exhausted his body and drained his brain had always helped him deal with difficult situations in the past.

That’s all Harper is to you? Another difficult situation to handle?

No. Harper was everything to him. Everything. He was absolutely sick about what had just happened. The minute he’d seen her car go by as he’d been working in the pasture closest to the house, he’d hauled ass back to the ranch. He’d intended to wrap her in his arms, then drop to his knees, right in the mud, and tell her he loved her. Beg her not to go. Ask her to marry him and stay with him forever.

But that confession wasn’t something he wanted to do in front of Les. Not because he was embarrassed to admit how he felt about her, but because Harper deserved better.

Yeah? Then how is it that you ended up on your worst behavior?

Infuriated with himself, he jammed the shovel into the ground with force, leaning into the work until he was almost horizontal, spraying soil everywhere as the metal tip clanged into a solid object. Dammit. He must’ve hit a rock. He dropped to his knees and reached in the hole. Definitely a rock, but what the hell . . . ?

His fingers plucked the object out of the hole and the metal glinted in the sun.

For chrissake. He’d been so focused on moving that rock he hadn’t noticed his cell phone had fallen into the hole. And he’d pulverized the damn thing.

Fucking awesome.

Now how was he supposed to get in touch with Harper? With her leaving, a phone call was the only way he could contact her.

Get in your damn truck and go after her. Fix this. Right now.

No. As much as he needed to cool off before he talked to the Hendersons, that went double for how he needed to present himself when he tracked Harper down. He had to get a handle on what he was going to say to her. For once in his life, he wasn’t running off half-cocked. This was too damn important.

Bran swore and threw the mangled phone in the bed of his pickup. He pounded the shovel into the ground until he was coated with sweat and his back and arms ached, but the damn stubborn rock wouldn’t budge.

Hopefully, that wasn’t a sign of things to come.

Chapter Twenty-two

The drive into Casper was a blur.

Harper found cheap lodging at the Super 8. She picked up the classifieds and checked out the job situation. As long as she didn’t mind working in the food industry she’d have no problem finding employment. Rent for a single-bedroom apartment was fairly reasonable, even if higher than her house in Muddy Gap.

But it didn’t make sense to drive back and forth just to save a hundred bucks on housing, especially if she ended up getting two jobs. She’d work, save as much money as possible, and figure out what she wanted to do with her life.

Her cell phone buzzed. Bailey texted her. Again. And once again, Harper didn’t answer. She wasn’t being petty; she’d said everything she’d intended to say at this point.

She flopped on the bed and turned on the TV. Cable was a luxury and watching mindless entertainment might take her mind off the feeling that her life had completely fallen apart.

As she snacked on pizza she’d had delivered to her room, and the two packages of M&M’s from the vending machine, her phone buzzed. Fifteen calls. Ten calls were from Bailey. One call was from Bailey’s friend Amy’s cell phone. Two calls from an unlisted number she assumed were from Liberty. One call was from Celia. One call was from Janie.

No calls from Bran.

That made her incredibly weepy and she ripped into another bag of candy. Sadly, even the best chocolate in the world would never compare to the way Bran made her feel.

She was considering turning her phone off completely when it buzzed a sixteenth time. The caller ID read: Bernice Watson. Harper had to answer, even if her wily sister had tricked her boss into calling on her behalf. “Hello?”

“Hey, sugar.”

“Hey, Bernice. What’s up?”