Prologue
Jackson
I thrust my fingers through my hair, messing it up from the perfect style it had been put into by the stupid hairstylist my fiancée hired. I knew my mother would be agitated when she saw that I’d messed up all the hard work he’d put into it this morning. She acted as if it was my first day of school all over again, scolding me about wrinkles potentially getting in my slacks and dress shirt. Lord knew she’d cause an ulcer to form in her stomach if she saw the state of my hair.
Well, really, I felt like an ulcer was forming in mine.
When I’d woken up this morning and remembered today was the day I was getting married, a ball of nerves and anxiety settled in my stomach, only getting worse as the day wore on. And now that there were only thirty minutes left until I took my place at the altar and waited on my fiancée of a year and three months to walk down the aisle to me, I wanted to run.
It was like I couldn’t breathe.
I yanked at my tie and stormed out of the dressing room I was in, the suit feeling scratchy against my skin. I hated wearing these monkey suits—preferred my jeans a simple flannel shirt or a t-shirt and my worn boots.
Probably another reason I was dreading this day.
I wanted to marry Alina—I really did. But I wanted this day to be over with. I’d have been happy with a courthouse wedding, but she wanted the whole shebang, and taking a peek into the main part of the church where everyone was taking seats and waiting for the ceremony to start, it looked like the whole darn town had been invited.
Sweat broke out over my shaved upper lip and above my brows. I couldn’t even keep my goatee for the wedding; Alina wanted it gone at least for today.
I scratched at my naked chin and shoved open the side door that would lead outside, praying no one was over here and that everyone was using the front doors of the church to come inside. Most people who needed to smoke before entering the church usually did it by their cars or by the smoking area between the church and the building where everyone gathered to eat on the third Sunday of every month.
Or, at least I thought they still gathered there on the third Sunday of every month. Today was the first day I’d stepped into a church since I took over the ranch five years ago so my parents could retire.
“Bray, stop,” I heard someone who sounded suspiciously like my soon-to-be wife giggle quietly off to the side. “I’m getting married today. You’re going to ruin my makeup.”
“Not like you love him anyway,” my best man—and best friend—Brayden rumbled.
I froze on the steps, keeping completely still, my hand clenching into a fist at my side, my other hand clenching the porch railing. Anger blurred my vision, and I blinked, trying to focus more on what they were saying.
The two people I trusted most in this world were betraying me.
“I know, baby, but just a few months—just long enough to divorce him and get part of the ranch,” she whispered.
Like hell. Over my dead body.
I stepped down the porch and turned, glaring at the two of them. They were kissing, their lips locked together, and Brayden was groping at her like a stallion being led into a pasture full of mares. I barked out a laugh, and it sounded so cynical and sharp that they lurched away from each other like I’d put the branding iron to both of them at the same time. Alina knocked her head on the brick wall, but she was so stunned by my presence, I wasn’t even sure she noticed.
“Just a few months and then get half my ranch, huh?” I asked her. I was never more thankful we’d chosen to get married on a Friday and that the Judge himself was coming to sign the paperwork today instead of doing it all beforehand like was usual protocol when people got married.
“Jackson—” she started, but I put my hand up, effectively silencing her. I pointed my finger at Brayden. “You—you’re fired. And you’ve got exactly,” I looked at the worn watch on my wrist—a watch that had belonged to my grandfather that I’d refused to take off for this wedding despite Alina’s insistence I do so—and then looked back at him, “two hours to get your things out of my bunk house and off my property.”
He swallowed thickly, looking torn. “Jack—”
“Don’t!” I shouted, barely holding my temper in check. “Two hours, Brayden. Your time is already ticking.”
I turned on my heel and stormed back up the steps, yanking that stupid tie from my neck and then ripping the expensive suit jacket open, the three buttons popping everywhere. I could hear Alina struggling to keep up with my long strides, but I didn’t care. I’d caught them in the act—heard enough to know everything I needed to know.
“Jackson, wait!” Alina called.
I flung open the doors to the main part of the church. Everyone turned to look at me, and many of their eyes widened, and the ones who hadn’t looked shocked by my entrance definitely became shocked when they saw my now ex-fiancée’s disheveled appearance.
“The wedding is off,” I announced, my voice booming around the spacious room. Turning, I grabbed Alina’s hand and pulled her engagement ring off her finger. “Hope you and Brayden can figure your lives out now that he’s jobless and you’ve never worked a day in your life,” I sneered.
Gasps rang out in the crowd, but I didn’t care. I stormed out of the church and headed straight for my old pick-up truck, ready to hole myself up at the ranch and bury myself in hard, tiring labor.
And if Brayden knew what was good for him, he’d be gone by the time I got there.
