A False Start: A Small Town Brother’s Best Friend Romance (Gold Rush Ranch Book 4)
A False Start: Chapter 11

I walk into my brother’s home with Griffin trailing behind me. I swear I can feel his gaze on me. My skin hums for him.

Is he staring at my ass? I hope so.

My lips roll together as I try to shove that thought back down. I should not set my sights on my brother’s friend, but that’s getting harder and harder to stick to the more time I spend with him.

He says the horse is a gift and made it seem like he only bought him to rescue him. But I’m having a hard time not looking further into that. Why give him to me? Why not just keep the gelding for himself? Why be okay with giving me riding lessons and having me come around his place when he wants to stay away from me?

There are things that don’t add up, and I’m smart enough to notice them. I’m just not sure what to do with them.

“Hi!” I call out right as the scent of pizza hits me, making my mouth water.

“Hey, guys.” Stefan rounds the corner with his signature smirk on his face. He’s not closed off like he used to be, so I’m not sure why he still hides behind that mask. Either he’s just grown accustomed to that facial expression or Mira has made him happy enough that it’s not a mask at all anymore.

I’d like to think that’s what it is.

He ruffles my hair like I’m still a little kid before stepping just beyond me to clap Griffin on the shoulder. “How ya doin’, man? Nice to have you around.”

The two of them are honestly adorable together. Griffin grunts and I giggle as I walk into the house I called home for several years.

It’s sprawling but cozy, with dark stained wood beams and an industrial kitchen. Big windows lend incredible natural lighting, and the house has this way of matching the rugged landscape of Ruby Creek while also being just a little bit over-the-top. I try to imagine Griffin living here. I try to imagine Griffin being a professional football player too. I can’t see either of those things, to be honest.

The two men chat about I don’t know what, and I don’t care. I have tunnel vision for food right now. They can bro out without me.

Padding into the open living space, I slide into a chair at the counter and assess the open pizza boxes on the counter. I’m pretty sure I’m going to eat them all. It’s hitting me now that I spent all day wrapped up in the new horse and I haven’t eaten a thing. Now, I’m famished.

I grab a slice of pepperoni. No plate. No cutlery. I fold it in half and start shoving it into my mouth.

“Very ladylike, sis,” Stefan mocks. Dick.

“Whatever,” I reply over a mouthful of food. “I’m starving,”

He chuckles and goes to pull out plates for us, and I’m pretty sure I won’t be using one just to spite him.

“Where is Mira?”

“She fell asleep with Silas. They’re so sweet all cuddled up together.” My brother’s face takes on this soft look that I never used to see on him before he met Mira. “I don’t have it in me to wake her. She’s been working so hard between the clinic and Billie and everything else. She overdoes it.” He puts a few pieces of her favorite—Veggie Supreme—on a plate and covers it with plastic wrap. I bet he’ll bring her a midnight snack in bed or something equally romantic. That’s the type of dude he’s become.

I shove another massive bite of pizza into my mouth. A deep chortling sound rolls in from beside me, and when I peek up, Griffin has taken the seat beside me and has his fist covering his mouth.

Unsuccessfully trying to smother his laugh.

“Yeah, yeah. Yuck it up, Sinclaire. You’re the one who stranded me with no food.”

Stefan leans back against the counter opposite the island with his plate of pizza. “He did what to you?”

“Did Mira not tell you that Griffin bought me a horse?”

My brother’s eyebrows shoot up, and Griffin clears his throat.

I roll my eyes. It’s not like I just told him we made out in the pub bathroom. That would go over poorly for sure.

“Sounds like a good story.” Stefan takes a bite of his pizza, chewing thoughtfully as his eyes flit between the two of us sitting at the island.

“So, there was this total asshole at the track. Mira made Griffin go with me because she knew what kind of dude he was—”

Griffin cuts me off. “He was going to send a perfectly good horse for meat and was gawking at your sister like she was a piece of candy.” He wipes one hand across his mouth before looking back down at his plate. “I stepped in.”

“I’m going to pay him back,” I blurt out as my cheeks heat. I don’t know why it feels like we’re in trouble. It’s probably because we’re both sitting here keeping secrets from my brother. We did nothing wrong—not this time anyway.

Griffin’s intense gaze catches on the side of my face for a moment, but then he turns to my brother and shrugs. He doesn’t bother correcting me.

Another secret for us to keep.

“Well, Nadia, sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you. Congratulations on your new horse.”

I push more pizza in my mouth and smile as the two men talk about some hunting trip they’re planning for the fall. Their conversation is full of laughs and inside jokes, and I listen to the words that Griffin uses. The ones he thinks he stumbles on but doesn’t in the company of a good friend. An observation that both warms my heart and makes it clench.

I thought we could play it cool around my brother.

I was wrong.

Zoning out, I startle when my brother addresses me. “How’s the boyfriend, Nadia?”

My shoulders tense. Fucking Tommy. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Stefan chuckles. “Oh, yeah? Did you tell him that, man-eater?”

I suck in a deep breath. I hate that I’m perceived that way, whether or not he means it as a joke. Have I settled down with one guy? No. But that’s changing soon. I crave the security of something more serious—I want what my brother has found—and I don’t want it with Tommy.

Something I’m going to have to tell him next time we talk.

Instead of sharing that with my brother, I roll my eyes. “We haven’t done a lot of talking.”

Stefan guffaws, and my hand lands over my mouth. I peek over at Griffin, who has stopped with his pizza part way up to his mouth. Frozen. But only momentarily.

“That’s not what I meant.” The laughs keep coming from the opposite side of the kitchen and my cheeks burn. “Stef! Shut up! I just mean we haven’t been in touch.”

He holds a hand up in surrender as he shakes his head. “None of my business. Just enjoying watching you get all shy about a boy. It’s cute.”

“You know what’s going to be cute? How you look after I shave your eyebrows off in your sleep.”

That makes him laugh harder. There may be thirteen years between us, but it somehow hasn’t prevented my brother from falling into childish taunts now and then. But the joke is on him because I’m just crazy enough to shave off his eyebrows.

I rip another piece of pizza out of one box and dig in, avoiding looking at Griffin. I don’t want him to think I’m with Tommy—and that’s a problem. It shouldn’t matter to me what Griffin thinks of my love life.

Stefan tries to pick up their earlier conversation about hunting. Something about target practice. He asks if I want to come and I nod, but I’m not listening.

I’m too busy analyzing that brief pause in Griffin’s movement. The way he didn’t laugh at my brother’s jokes. And the way he’s gone from fully conversing back to grunts, nods, and one syllable words.

“I want to say goodnight to my horse. I’ve never had a horse, and I’m excited. Just take me with you, and I’ll walk back up here to my place.”

“No.”

I’m trying to convince Griffin to drive back to his cottage and then let me walk back to the main barn across the field. It’s a nice night, so there shouldn’t be a problem. Instead, he drove me straight up to the base of the steep stairs that lead to my little apartment above the barn, hopped out, yanked my door open, and pointed at the door.

Like I’m a child being sent to her room.

“Yes.”

“Out.” After a reasonably enjoyable day together, Griffin is being a full-blown cocksucker.

“Make me.” I cross my arms and arch an eyebrow at him in challenge. No chance would he—

One long step and he’s right up in my space with his hands wrapped around my rib cage. His grip is firm but gentle, and I swear he smells like the mountains, like a pine forest, and cinnamon gum, and it makes me want to lean in and run the tip of my nose up the curve of his neck.

His scent is intoxicating.

Even as he lifts me, like I’m a fucking bale of hay, takes a few long strides, and deposits me at the bottom of my stairs.

“G’night.” He slams the passenger side door. And never mind smelling him. Now what I want to do is kick him in the balls.

“What am I?” I shout at him, ire rising in my chest as he rounds the front of his truck. “A child?”

And I’m damn near positive he mutters, “Pretty much,” before he jumps in the truck and drives out of the circular driveway into the darkening scenery.

Did he seriously just drop me here and take off? I flip off the back of his truck.

And then I smile as my eyes find the rolling field that leads to the private cottage on the far side of the property.

It’s a pleasant night for a walk.

Within ten minutes, I’m ducking under the white fence that divides the hay field from the back part of the lot that the guest house sits on.

Try to tell me what to do again, asshole. See how it works out for you.

“Hi, boys,” I whisper into the dusky night. Two heads pop up and stare back at me. One is Spot. Then there’s mine.

His shiny coat matches the warm receding light that fills the valley right now. It’s only shortly after nine p.m. but the sun goes down quickly when you’re sitting at the bottom of the Cascades. They jut out from the bright green fields violently. All sharp points and rocky ledges.

Sometimes they feel almost oppressive. I turn my back to the mountains and instead walk to the paddock at the end of the row so I can spend a little time just gazing at my new pet.

“Hi, Horse.” He hangs his head over the gate and closes his eyes beneath the stroke of my palm. I drag my fingers through his thick forelock and scratch him right between his ears. He nuzzles into my chest, and I swear he’s thanking me. I swear he knows we saved him.

I may not know how to ride a horse very well—okay, at all—yet, but I’ve worked around them on the ground enough to know that they are intuitive. Incredibly sensitive.

My cheek drops onto his dusty forehead. He’s clearly been rolling in the dirt, and I find I don’t care at all as I wrap my arms around him. I’m not sure I recognized how tall he is, taller than your average racehorse.

“You’re a very sweet boy,” I murmur, hugging him. And he lets me, clearly loving the attention. “We’ll get you feeling better soon. Mira has more of that medicine for you.”

He snorts quietly and I smile, feeling soothed by the contact. It’s almost like he’s hugging me right back. And some days, I could really use a hug.

When the back light of the log home flicks on, I drop my forehead against my horse’s with a small smile. “Uh oh. I think I’m about to get spanked by grumpy Griffin.”

The back door slams shut, and I force myself not to jump. The man frays my nerves without even trying.

“Nadia.” He sounds exasperated. I’m oddly pleased with myself for being the source of his frustration. Irritating someone should not be this much fun. “What are you doing here?”

I try so hard not to laugh. I don’t want him to know what a kick I get out of this. “Visiting Horse.”

“Horse?”

“Yeah.” I finally turn around to see him standing at the top of the three steps that lead up to the sprawling deck off the back of the cabin, hands pressed into his hip bones. Wearing those goddamn jeans like they were made for him.

He looks pissed, heavy brows pressed low. Frowning just adds to the rugged edge of his beauty. He looks like he wants to do very bad things to me.

And I want to let him.

A small giggle bubbles up in my throat. I’m dead sober, but I feel almost giddy under Griffin Sinclaire’s gaze.

“Yeah. This guy right here.” I hike a thumb behind me at the leggy racehorse, who is still nuzzling against my back.

“You named him Horse?”

I run a hand over my mouth, trying to hide my smile. “Hardly seems like something a man who named his spotted horse Spot should criticize me for.”

He glares at me. The seconds stretch out, and I seriously question if he might be having a stroke. I sigh and turn back to the gentle giant. “I just haven’t decided on a name yet. All I know is that he needs a fresh name to go with his fresh start.”

Griffin sighs and tips his chin up to stare at the sky like I exhaust him.

I ignore how clearly frustrated he is. “Do you have any brushes I can borrow?” Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“You’re exhausting,” he huffs out before stomping down the deck to retrieve a bucket of brushes from where he’s stashed them underneath the stairs. He drops them near me and then instantly retreats to sit on the stairs, back where he started.

“Thanks,” I say brightly before putting a halter on Horse, tying him to the fence, and getting to grooming him.

I lose myself in the circular motion of brushing, watching his neck stretch and head twist when I hit the good spots. I smile up at his sweet face as he basks in the attention under the calm starry skies out in Ruby Creek.

I’m so engrossed with grooming him I almost don’t hear Griffin when he says, “You’re not paying me back. For the record.”

“I know.” I don’t chance a look at the older man. I just keep my eyes on the soft coat in front of me.

“Then why’d you say that?”

Great question.

I sigh so deeply my shoulders come up to my ears before dropping back down again. “I don’t know. I didn’t want Stefan to suspect anything.”

“Like what?”

Now I peer back at him, shooting a knowing look his way, before going back to my task at hand.

“You have a boyfriend.” The word sounds wrong on his lips. “Why would he suspect anything?”

“Good God. What is with everyone calling him my boyfriend? He’s not.”

Griffin casually props his elbows on his knees. “Well, you have history. He was there that night.”

That night. He says it like something terrible happened. Best kiss of my life, but that was before I knew what a growly dick Griffin Sinclaire is. It wouldn’t be that hot again, not now that we know each other.

“That night was the first time I’d kissed Tommy. I snuck out the back door once you left and apparently, he left with another girl. That was that. Not that I cared. I didn’t have high hopes for us. That’s what most of my”—I hold my hands up to make air-quotes with my fingers—“boyfriends equate to. With daddy issues like mine, the prospect of something serious is downright anxiety-inducing.”

Griffin is staring at me, and he’s mad. But I don’t get the sense that he’s mad at me, so I continue, filling the space between us with everything that’s been running through my head for the past several years. “My brother and Mira are the first time I’ve seen two people truly love and respect each other. I want that too, but I’m not holding my breath. It seems fragile and unlikely, and I don’t think I can handle getting hurt any more than I already have.”

The words keep spilling, like it’s somehow safer to say these things out loud under the cover of darkness. “So now I’ll try for that too because it seems like what I’m supposed to do now. Right? I’ve got the education I wanted. The job I wanted. And I figure, hey why not go for the trifecta? And so, I bring a boy around once, who, for the record, is a massive disappointment, and I’m the butt end of every joke there is about having a boyfriend. All with a guy who I don’t even like.”

I toss a brush back in the bucket. The clank makes Horse jump a little as I rave on. “I’m just the silly little sister who can’t settle down and gets around instead. And I fucking hate it. I don’t want to be that girl. I just want a normal, happy life. Even though I’m realistically too terrified to go anywhere near that type of life. Self-sabotage is a good friend of mine, ya know? But I force myself to try anyway. And then it’s just like . . . what am I supposed to do with a normal, happy person like Tommy? Normal, happy people don’t want to hear about the shit I’ve seen, the shit I’ve endured. Normal, happy people like to be around other normal, happy people. Am I just meant to fake it for the rest of my life? I want all that,”—I gesture in the general direction of my brother’s house—“but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let myself really have it.”

My chest is rising and falling rapidly when I finally turn my eyes back to Griffin, who is still sitting silently, a quiet witness to my insecurities, but now with a different expression on his face. Less angry, and more something else.

“You’re a good listener,” I say, meeting his gaze pound for pound.

Our eyes lock for a few seconds and then . . .

Griffin bursts out laughing.

“Are you . . .” My bottom jaw drops open as I watch him. The rich sound of his laugh fills the night air. “Are you fucking laughing at me?”

He covers his face with wide palms, body shaking under the intensity of his laugh.

“Griffin Sinclaire! I just poured my heart out, and now you’re laughing at me!”

First, I’m incensed. I mean, how dare he? But the longer I stand there with shock painting my face, the more his amusement rubs off on me. Grumpy Griffin has the giggles.

And that’s giving me the giggles.

It starts small. A little hiccup. Some tension drains out, falling away piece by piece, until the giggles turn into guffaws.

I drop my brush in the bucket at my feet and cover my face with a hand when my eyes water with the extent of my laughter. I haven’t laughed like this . . . ever. Griffin’s raspy laugh twists together with my breathless one, and in the quiet darkness of the night we come together in a shared moment of levity. Something in us aligns. We’re overcome with the same feeling, and we give ourselves over to it.

Something we’ve done before.

“My God,” I wheeze out as I bend over and grip my knees. “What is wrong with you?”

He gasps out a last laugh before he says, “I guess I’m not a normal, happy person either.”

My eyes find his. Mirth reflects between the two of us, and I click my tongue. “You sure as shit are not.”

He leans back on the stairs again, looking seductive and delicious without even trying, filling out his T-shirt in a way that he has no business doing. In a way that has my tongue darting across my lower lip.

“You just t-t-told a man”—his chin dips briefly, but he keeps talking—“who barely speaks that he’s a good listener.” His eyes close and his head tips back, laughter spilling out of him once more.

And I love the sound. It’s like a balm between us. I want to hear it more. I make it my goal right here and now, as I watch the ridge of his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, to be the one that makes Griffin Sinclaire laugh more often.

He doesn’t need to know. But I’m adding it to my to-do list.

I stand up and lean against the fence. “You are. You’re a surly prick, but I can tell you’re listening to me. Most people don’t. Everyone is so involved with their own lives. They listen, but don’t absorb what I’m saying. But you don’t just listen, you hear me.”

His chest heaves as he stares back at me and his expression transforms. Almost stricken, but he nods quickly to cover it up.

Then he stands and leaves me there in the dark with a soft, “Goodnight, Wildflower.”

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