“You do, and you’re fired, Beck,” Harrison says. “I don’t care if you aren’t thankful she saved your sorry ass. She saved one of my best friends. And she’s our neighbor. You weren’t neighborly at all.”
“You’ve never met our neighbors,” Beck growled. “Until Marian—”
“That’s right,” Harrison said. “Marian taught me a lot. Helped me see humans ain’t so bad. Sierra—that’s her name—could teach you that.”
Marian was a nice woman, and Beck was glad that one of his best friends was settled and happy. After many lonely years on the ranch, Harrison deserved everything he had with his mate and more.
But Beck? He didn’t deserve anything like that.
And that nice, sweet lady who saved him? It’d be kinder for everyone involved if he stayed away.
“You go apologize at least,” Harrison said. “I can’t have an asshole representing my ranch. And she’s not going to ask a favor from someone as rude and mean as you were.”
“I wasn’t rude and mean,” Beck said. But thinking back, maybe he had been. He’d just been shocked. First at waking up, then by the fact that Harrison had given the woman Beck’s talon.
He set down his sandwich and stretched, cricking his neck back and forth as he considered his options.
But then he thought of Sierra’s blue eyes. Blue like a Texas sky. And yes, there was hurt in them.
He didn’t want that. Hadn’t meant for it.
“I’ll fix it,” he said, exhaling roughly.
“You’ll make nice?” Harrison asked, looking almost surprised by how quickly Beck had agreed.
Beck knew he was stubborn, but he could admit when he was wrong.
The lady didn’t deserve to have a monster doing her a favor. But she didn’t deserve to be disrespected either, just because he’d been upset.
So he’d find her and explain that it was nothing personal, but he couldn’t do her that favor.
Maybe she’d accept a favor from Clancy or someone instead.
And even if the thought made Beck jealous enough to want to burn down the whole range, he would keep that to himself.
The lady deserved better than him no matter how much his dragon might whisper about wanting her.
3
Sierra was washing dishes in her kitchen after lunch when she saw dust making a cloud at the end of her drive, signaling that someone was coming toward her place.
She’d been ruminating on how the huge, handsome, practically scary-looking men at Dragonclaw Ranch did more than justice to the legends she’d heard from her grandpa about the place.
To hear him tell it, it was some mythical spread where monsters roamed in the hills or something.
Then again, her grandpa also swore that in the old days, dragons used to rule the range.
So it made sense that while Beck and Harrison were almost big enough to count as monsters, it turned out they were just pretty normal men.
Except for Beck’s rudeness, which could maybe be excused on the basis that he’d just nearly bled to death.
As the dust cloud got closer and Sierra could make out the sound of gravel crunching beneath rubber tires, Lasso, her collie, ran through his doggie door and began to bark at the top of his lungs.
Sierra sighed as she went to go get him, wondering who could be coming to bother her now.
“Come on, boy. Come inside,” she said as Lasso barked a few more times loudly, then turned and came to her hand. She brought him into the house, then closed the door while Lasso continued to bark, warning her of whatever was on its way up her drive.
She turned to see the telltale dust plume was even closer, trailing a gleaming white luxury car that was rapidly making its way up her drive.
Only one person she knew used such an impractical vehicle out here…
Sierra strode to the top step of her porch, folding her arms as the vehicle pulled up. The windows on the car were tinted, and a gaudy silver hood ornament sat on the front of the hood.
The back door swung open, and a familiar face stepped out. He had thinning red hair that was short on the sides and wavy on top. A thick build that might have been attractive at some point, but laziness and life with a silver spoon had made it quite soft. His face was cocky even though his features weren’t made to match the kind of confidence he wore.
He had the money to buy whatever he wanted, thanks to his daddy, and his smirk showed he knew it gave him power over most people.
Ross Clarkson.
He stepped forward, wearing expensive cowboy boots that were a strange pairing with the suit pants and sport coat he had on. Sierra was almost surprised he was alone, as Ross was generally seen cavorting with his cronies around town and raising hell wherever they liked.
Sierra felt her whole body tighten as he stopped fifteen feet from her, standing in the middle of her parcel like he already owned the place.
“Have you thought about my proposal?”
“Which one? For my hand or for my land?” Sierra asked. “Oh, wait. They’re the same to you, aren’t they?”
Ross made a dramatic raise of one soft, uncalloused hand to his chest. “Oh, Sierra. You wound me with your words.”
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, Ross. This land belonged to my grandpa and his dad and his daddy’s dad before that. And it’ll belong to my family long after me too. I’ve no intention of selling it.” She used her firmest tone, standing proud even though she would never have the kind of money or power that he did.
“I can tell you’re set on this, Sierra. But if you’d just take another look, I’m sure you’ll see I’m offering much more than this dump is worth.” His snide glance around her homestead made her wish she could punch him.
Even if she did, she’d probably get sued for everything she was worth. Which wasn’t very much at the moment.
“I don’t want to give up any part of
