“Blair Hart, were youspyingon me?” He flashes a lopsided grin, complete with his famous dimples. Dimples that stole my heart so many years ago. A smile I refuse to let envelop me again. “Nah, I ended things with her after my ride today.”
“You…broke up?Afteryour ride?” I squint at him, looking for any indication that he’s suffering a brain hemorrhage. “You definitely need a CT scan when we get to the hospital, because I haven’t left you alone since you hit the ground.When did you have time to break up between then and now? I think you’re confused.”
“Not confused, and we didn’t break up because we weren’t actually together. Colt handed me my wallet and phone before you whisked me away in this dilapidated hunk of metal.” He holds up the phone and wallet, trying to disguise the pain he’s clearly feeling in his shoulder. “I sent her a text while you were busy ignoring me.Terriblebedside manner, by the way.”
Some things, like the flirtatious teasing, seemingly never change. Other things, like the fuckboy attitude, are painfully new to me. Of course, I’ve heard snippets about his dating life since I moved away. It’s a small town—everyone is dying to let me know what my ex-boyfriend has been up to whenever I come home to visit. As if I give a shit. It’s been almost fourteen years, for God’s sake.
“Wow, dumping her over text is a dick move.”
His nose scrunches and his head rocks side-to-side as much as the neck brace allows, like he’s weighing my words. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“Or you’re concussed and making poor choices.”
“Never thought this clearly in my whole life, Hart.” He winks.
Jesus Christ, he is a total douche now.
“Anyway, is yourex-girlfriend your emergency contact?”
“Nah, Red is. Usually he’s with me at rodeos, but he’s a little preoccupied these days.”
“At least one of you grew up,” I mutter under my breath, pulling my phone out to text Red.
“Overrated…growing up, I mean. I’m happy for him and Cass—don’t get me wrong. Hazel’s adorable, and Red’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him. But I don’t want that.”
An involuntary puff of air leaves my nostrils, and I do my best to play it off as a sniffle by running a knuckle across the tip of my nose. My phone buzzes and I glance down at thebright screen. “Well, Red’s busy with the baby, but he says Austin will come pick you up when the hospital discharges you.”
“You mean I don’t get to ride all the way back to Wells Canyon on this uncomfortable-as-fuck gurney?”
“Fortunately, no.” I tap my fingernails against the clipboard, checking my watch for the fortieth time. I swear this drive is taking significantly longer than usual.
“You could ride home with us, if you don’t want to be trapped with Mr. CCR.” He hooks his thumb in Johnny’s direction, who’s currently banging out a drum solo on the steering wheel. No, I don’t want to spend another full hour listening to his singing, but I’ll take that over another hour with Denver Wells. “Plus, you’d be saving me from a lecture. Austin’s gonna want to skin me for this.”
“You earned that lecture fair and square.”
He groans. “I miss when you used to bat your eyelashes to get me out of trouble.”
The corner of my lip ticks upward reflexively.God,I used to do that all the time. When I was a teenager hanging around the ranch, Grandpa Wells and Bennett both treated me so much like the daughter neither of them had. Which meant I got away with murder and, because Denver was always the one with me, he got away with everything, too.
“I can’t, anyway. I need to get back right away,” I say.
I promised Dad I would be home by dinner, because Mom’s condition always worsens in the evenings. Early-onset Alzheimer’s disease at just shy of fifty-nine years old. Something had been off for a long time before my dad insisted she see a doctor, and I kick myself daily for not being around more often to notice the signs. Not that it would help with a fatal disease. But I could have been here to help sooner. To spend more time with her. On the days when I really feel like wallowing in a pit of depression, I find myself wishing I’d never left town to begin with.
The clearing of a throat brings me out of my stupor. Denver raises an eyebrow, eyes locked on mine. “Isaid, what’s the rush? The rodeo will be long over by the time you’re back.”
I stare back, narrowing my gaze. “I…uh, need to be around in case some intoxicated cowboys get hurt at the barn dance.”
He seems to accept that answer, sucking his lips in for a moment of thought. The ambulance slows to a stop at a red light.Finally,we made it to Sheridan.
Rattling over a speed bump as we turn into the hospital emergency parking lot, Denver clears his throat. “Aren’t you curious about why I ended shit with her?”
“Not in the slightest,” I lie.
“Yeah? I guess you probably know why, anyway.”
Because he’s a fuckboy looking for his next conquest, is my best guess. Hit by a wave of claustrophobia, I frantically grasp the back door handles, needing out of this personal hell on wheels. I expected to grapple with mixed emotions about moving back to my hometown—into my childhood bedroom, no less—but not about him. I didn’t anticipate his smug smile to send blood rushing up my chest and cheeks. I didn’t anticipate DenverfuckingWells.
Denver
