“Can’t commit,” I say, watching a red tail hawk soar through the sky. “Not yet.” “You’re on a ranch, son.” Disdain stains his voice. “In Montana.” Annoyance prickles my spine. That’s the bastard he’s always been. A smug, rich asshole who thinks the entire world is a cement city. “I’ll take the ranch any day of the week.” “That’s your brother’s place,” he argues. “You gotta make a place for yourself. You did it once. You can do it again.” Restlessness rattles beneath my skin. A grudging admittance that he’s right. “You think pissin’ me off is really the way to my heart, Jim?” He chuckles. “You
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