It’s a great question, one I’ve wanted the answer to since Shankle climbed on my plane.

“Well, I can’t—”

“And why force them to stay here? It does no one any fucking good. Austin has seaplanes to fly. And Miles… well, whatever the fuck he does, I’m sure it’s not here either.”

“I do custom builds. Motorcycles and cars. A fancy mechanic.” Miles pulls out a stool at the bar and sits. “I’m curious, as well. Why would Daddy dearest do this to us?”

I nod. “I’m interested to know, too.”

We look to Shankle.

“I don’t know the answer,” he says, scratching his head. “It’s my job to ensure the will is legal and holds. I had no say in what Jonathan put in it.”

Chance frowns. “You’re no fucking help.”

“I have no intention of getting in your way,” Miles says to Chance. “I might be able to repair your tractors and ATVs, but I’ll happily steer clear of the stables and…all of it.”

“I’m going to be pretty bored unless you’ve got a plane,” I add.

Chance laughs. “Oh, we’ve got a plane. Or two. Since you fly seaplanes, you might need some training wheels.”

“I can fly whatever you put in front of me,” I reply.

Shankle makes a funny choking sound, but I ignore him.

For the first time all week—other than when I stumbled across Carly earlier—I feel excitement. Man, I’d love to get back up in the air.

“Can you use a hammer?” Chance asks.

I nod, trying not to be insulted.

“Breakfast’s at six,” he says. “We’ll head out after that.”

“Doing what?” I ask.

“Got about twenty miles of fencing to check and fix.” He grabs his hat and his beer bottle.

I look to Miles and then to Shankle.

“I am only here to ensure the three of you follow the letter of the will,” Shankle tells us. “You’re off to a good start.”

“It’s going to be a long year, brother,” Miles says to me. “Something tells me it’s going to be a wild ride.”

“Wild is good,” I say. “Better than boring like the past two days. The will doesn’t say we’re stuck on the ranch, right, Shankle?”

He shakes his head.

I look to Miles. “Why don’t you and I check out this Dusty Rose place later?”

“Are you fucking serious?” Chance’s voice is laced with surprise. “Did I not just say breakfast is at six?”

Miles looks at me, amusement tipping up the corner of his mouth. “I think that’s what he said. But maybe there’s a problem with my hearing?”

“Nope,” I tell him. “That’s what he said.”

“Still want to go?” Miles grins.

“Hell, yeah.”

Chance scoffs. “You’re going to make plans without me? What the fuck kind of brothers are you?”

“Dude,” Miles says, “you can’t even look at us.”

“Maybe not”—Chance takes a swig of his beer—“but I can sure look at the fillies over at the Dusty Rose. It might even be ladies’ night.”