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dropped the towel and slid on a pair of boxer briefs as Roman turned to stare out the massive windows that faced the pasture.
    “Sorry about last night.”
    “Which part? The part where you got drunk and drove yourself home, or the part where your drunk ass woke me up and ruined my wet dream?” Drannon teased.
    As expected, his joke made Roman chuckle and shake his head. “Both. I didn’t plan to get lit last night, but Bran got the news that he was being promoted to Sheriff yesterday.”
    “He did? Damn! Good for him! So Randy finally retired?”
    Brandon Bowers had been Vin and Drannon’s third musketeer growing up. He’d only been on the ranch for a few months as a foster while his mom sobered up before he went back home. But thankfully, they’d attended the same schools. Besides the fact that Bran was only a temporary resident of Crawley Creek, he’d also taken his mother’s addiction so seriously that he’d gone to college for criminal justice and addiction studies. He’d gone straight into law enforcement after college. Drannon had always expected him to move up the ladder and run a big inner city police department, but Bran had settled in with the Montford Sheriff’s Department. They continued to be friends, but they’d lost some of the closeness after Drannon and Vin both spent time behind bars. Nowadays they only saw each other in passing.
    “Yep, his last day is at the end of the month, and that’s when Bran takes over officially.” Roman explained.
    “Guess you’re gonna have to clean your shit up. Bran isn’t going to be as easy on you as Randy was.” Drannon sat on the bed to pull his socks and boots back on.
    Roman snorted a laugh. “Randy was easy on me?”
    “He never pressed charges for drunk and disorderly, or drunk driving for that matter.”
    “No, he just took me in and made me sleep in that damn drunk tank. I hate that fucking tiny space. Feels like the walls are closing in.” Roman shivered and rubbed at his arms. Drannon knew his brother had a fear of enclosed spaces, but it was Roman’s own fault that he kept getting carted into the tiny holding cell.
    “Stop drinking and you’ll stop having to enjoy the Sheriff’s hospitality.”
    Roman shook his head, “Look I didn’t come up here for a lecture. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
    “Yeah, me too. I just wish you really knew what you were sorry about.” With that Drannon left his younger brother standing next to the window in his room, and headed downstairs to confront his own issues. Roman had yet to admit that he was fighting addiction, and until he faced his guilt over the past, he’d never win the battle. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much Drannon could do to help him. The more he pushed, the harder Roman resisted, and the bigger playboy he became. Only time would tell if Roman’s guilt would be his downfall.
     
    ~ ~ ~ ~
     
    The door to the study was open, and a fire had been lit in the fireplace. Making herself at home, Lacy had pulled a small round ottoman over so that she could put her socked feet on it while she worked. She had been immersed in the internet for a little while when the heavy thud of boots coming down the hall grabbed her attention. Her eyes lifted and met a pair of familiar dark brown ones.
    His curly hair was damp, and he wore a button down shirt tucked into fresh blue jeans. He no longer wore the heavy canvas coat and chaps, but he still looked like a perfect cowboy to her. She had to consciously force herself not to lick her lips as she looked him over. The cowboy gave her a wary glance, pausing in the doorway, before he seemed to find his resolve. His shoulders suddenly seemed broader and his chin jutted out with determination. “Miss Denvers, I owe you an apology—”
    Lacy held her hand up to stop him, “No, you don’t. I’m tougher than I look. No cowboy is going to ruffle my feathers with a few compliments.” She smiled at the relief on his face. “You do owe me something,