And I’m thinking that time is about now, because while Tenn had planned on staying a week to visit, I’ve managed to update him on everything in just under one evening thanks to some well-organized reports from Marta.

He picks up his coffee cup from the table and tilts it until it’s drained. When he sets it down, he leans back on the couch and studies me for a moment. Finally, he says, “Bro… I’m not sure why you need me involved anymore. You’re doing a fucking fantastic job.”

I know I should be all aflutter from his praise, but I’m not. I haven’t done anything that amazing, because truthfully, JennCo has an unparalleled Board of Directors, vice presidents, and attorneys that pretty much keep things going for us. Like Tenn, I review a few reports to keep my eye on things, make a few suggestions, but mostly, I let my advisors lead the way. Now granted, I still have a very active hand in managing the Double J, because there’s no denying that the actual practice of ranching is part of my DNA. I do love that aspect of running the business and have never once thought of backing away from that.

In truth, I guess I’ve never invested one-hundred percent in to the thought of backing away from JennCo either. While I’ve always slightly resented that I’ve had to bear the burden of it, particularly when I started The Wicked Horse, the truth of the matter is that I’m not sure I could abandon it. While for a period of time I thought the club might be my true calling in life, when it boils down to it, I’ve managed to run JennCo, the ranch, and The Wicked Horse—with Bridger’s help of course—just fine. And if I can continue to manage all three enterprises as well as let Tenn free to live his life, then there really is no reason for me to even tell him about The Wicked Horse.

Right?

Because that was my goal on this trip of his back home. To let him in on what really motivates me. To share with him the person I truly am.

He loves tinkering with his motorcycles… I love tinkering with kinky sex.

Not that much different to my way of thinking.

Except, there’s a damn good argument to be made that he should just stay in the dark where The Wicked Horse is concerned. It’s not hurting him or the business. It’s operated on the down low, and I’ve been able to smoothly handle both lives with no problems.

“What about Stokes’ Red Angus crossbreeds?” Tenn asked conversationally. “Any good?”

I had managed to make it over to Colton’s ranch to check out his stock last week and wasn’t overly impressed. He talked a good game but in my opinion, the musculature on the cattle had the potential to fall short of Angus certification standards. “I took a pass on purchasing from him. They were nice but didn’t overwhelm me, and I don’t want to risk weakening our stock. I’ll take my chances at auction.”

Tenn nods. “I heard through the grapevine that after his daddy had that bypass, he’s been having troubles maintaining the ranch.”

I blink in surprise. “Really? Colton always made it sound like things were going great.”

With a shrug, Tenn pushes up from the couch and grabs his cup. “Who knows? Want another cup of coffee?”

“Sure,” I say as I hand him my mug just as the doorbell rings.

Tenn nods his head toward the door. “You see who’s here and I’ll get us filled back up.”

I push up and off the couch and walk over to the east staircase that leads up to the first level. The front door to the house leads to nothing more than a large foyer that overlooks the interior of the two-story Great Room below, since the house is built into the back of a butte and falls downward from the top floor. The massive Great Room’s southern wall is nothing but floor-to-ceiling panes of glass framed in cedar providing a stunning view of the Teton mountain range.

I jog up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and swing the front door open just as the doorbell rings again.

Rather insistently, this time.

I put on an annoyed face to level at whoever is standing on the other side, but as soon as I see Governor Hayes standing there with a furious look on his face, my annoyance is forgotten.

Now I’m filled with gut-wrenching dread.

“We need to talk,” he grits out between teeth clenched so tightly, I’m not sure his jaw will ever come unhinged.

There’s only one reason he’s standing on my front porch looking like that, so I have to ask him, “Is Callie alright?”

“As if you even care,” he hisses as he takes a step toward me.

I back up, not out of fear but out of respect. Opening the door wider, I motion him inside, and he storms past me. With a sigh and a brisk rub of my forefinger over the bridge of my nose, I close the door and follow him down the stairs.

Governor Reginald Hayes knows his way around my house well. He and my father were tight friends, having known each other most of their lives, and of course, my father contributed a lot of money to his political campaigns and to the campaigns of his cronies over the years. I’ve not been much of one to follow the political scene, but I’ve instructed my CFO to make appropriate donations to Reggie when he’s needed them, out of familial respect. His son, Richard, was one of my closest friends after all, and I could even say Reggie was somewhat of a father figure to me.

But now as he hits the bottom step and rounds on me, looking madder than a rattlesnake, I know that he’s holding not one ounce of affection for me.

Callie got her looks from her father, as her mother, Ellen, has fair skin and hair. Now Reggie’s green eyes that he passed on to Callie are almost red with fury as he says, “Just what in the fuck have you gotten my daughter involved in, Woolf?”

I hold my hands up in supplication. “Reggie… you need to just calm—”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down,” he bellows as he advances on me. I back up but he keeps charging, until I’m stopped by the stone wall that borders the fireplace. His hands come to my t-shirt and grip me tightly. Even though he’s shorter than me by several inches, he has the rage of a protective father coursing through him and he pulls me forward before slamming me back into the wall.

And I let him, because fuck… if I had a daughter and some man did to her what I did to Callie… I’d fucking kill him. No doubt.

The next thing I know, Reggie is pulled back by Tenn’s strong arms around his stomach and pushed not too gently away. While he too respects Governor Hayes, he’s reacting out of protective instinct of his brother at the moment.

“What the hell is going on?” Tenn says in what is a moderately calm voice as he looks between Reggie and me. I pull the edge of my t-shirt down, straightening out the wrinkles left from Reggie’s fists, and try to stall for a good answer.

Too late.

Reggie points a shaking finger at me while he looks at Tenn. “Your brother is a fucking pervert, and he ruined my daughter.”

“Now wait a goddamned second—” I start to say, because that’s not really accurate, but Tenn steps toward Reggie menacingly.

In true big brother fashion, he takes my back without even knowing if I’m guilty. “I suggest you tone it down a notch, Reggie, or I’ll be forced to see you out, governor or no governor title to your name.”

Reggie isn’t dissuaded but merely comes at me a different way. He turns to face me and almost spits out with disgust, “Tell him. Tell your brother all about your sex club and the orgies you have there. Tell him about bringing Callie there for an orgy.”

“What the fuck?” Tenn says incredulously at Reggie, still disbelieving a word he’s saying about his little brother.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and take a deep breath, because I can’t let Tenn keep defending me when Reggie is skirting too close to the truth.

“It wasn’t an orgy,” I say tiredly, feeling the weight of my brother’s surprised stare. “It was a private group of people that got together for—”