I know fear. I lived fear for three years.

This isn’t that. This is just me trying to figure out how to best handle this situation without harming Austin or his brothers.

Last night was amazing. I’m a little sore from it because Austin is big. He was also rough, which was what I wanted. I never wanted rose petals and soft music. No, he got me so mindless I pretty much forgot my own name. Just as he said I would.

I was everything a woman was supposed to be when with a man. Aroused, uninhibited, passionate. Needy. Achy. Desperate.

I want more from him, but it’s not simple. My father came here looking for me. Here!

Where else did he go? How much time has he spent trying to find me?

I walk calmly—as calmly as I can—through the hallway, past the kitchen, and into the large front room. Austin doesn’t leave my side because I feel his presence, and his hand at the small of my back.

As soon as we enter—

“Carly!” Dad races toward me and grabs me into a hug. “Thank God.”

I feel the worry dissipating from him, the way he holds me tight. The way he exhales.

In a moment, though, the anger will emerge. The only question is whether it will be directed at me or at Austin.

Except it’s not a question at all.

I hold my breath and wait.

Dad releases me, and his dark eyes burn into Austin, who’s standing next to me. “What the hell is my daughter doing with you? Carly, did you spend the night here?”

“With all due respect, sir,” Austin says, “that isn’t your business.”

Miles shows up then, fully dressed and his concerned gaze on Austin. He says nothing.

Chance rubs at his forehead as if someone just split it open with an ax. He wasn’t happy the last time Austin had his hands on me and he’s clearly not happy now. “Jesus Christ, Austin.”

Chance is the least of my worries because my dad’s about to freak.

Here it comes.

Before I see it, I feel it. My father’s rage.

“The hell it’s not!” Dad advances on Austin, poking a finger into his chest.

But Austin stands his ground and he grabs my hand. My dad’s practically breathing down his neck and he’s taken my hand to reassure me.

I swallow. “I’m a grown woman, Daddy.” I clear my throat and speak louder. “I’m sorry about breakfast. I didn’t mean to miss it, but—”

“Did you forget why we were going to have breakfast together?” Dad demands. “To talk about the Bridgers and why I think you should stay away from them.”

Austin drops my hand. “Carly?”

I gulp audibly. “We were to talk about Jonathan Bridger and why he took our land.”

“They’re all Bridgers,” Dad counters, glaring at Austin.

Here I am again, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Daddy and Austin.

Daddy, who’s protected me—or tried to—his whole life.