“Okay.She needed me, and I wasn’t there. And she implied that part of why she didn’t come back to town before now was because she thought I’d moved on with other girls. So when I should’ve been here waiting for her, I wasn’t. It’s a bit deeper than the shit I did at eighteen.”
She clears her throat, raising a brow, preparing to call meon my shit. And, truthfully, that’s why I come to Beryl when I need to talk things out. She knows when I need a quiet listener, and she knows when I need a whupping. Looks like today is a whupping.
“Hadn’t you moved on? Lord knows you never bring these women around here, but the way I hear you boys talk? It’s no wonder why she thought you’d gone on to greener pastures, if even a fraction of the gossip got back to her.”
“It was never anything serious,” I protest, but Beryl slaps my hand again.
“Then prove that to her.” She grabs the coffee mug from in front of me, dumping the contents in the sink. “You said you have your work cut out for you, right? As much as I enjoy your company, you being here right now seems like killing time because you’re scared. What you should be scared of is losing her all over again because you F-worded your second chance.”
Who am I to argue with that?
—
I pull into a parking spot outside of Blair’s office and straighten myself out before heading through the glass front door. It’s been a little over a week since the rodeo, and when I saw her at the ranch a couple days ago, she straight-up ignored me when I asked her to go for dinner. Essentially ghosted me while face-to-face by pretending to be preoccupied with Hazel.
So when it looked like a relatively easy day on the ranch—the kind I could sneak away from without much interrogation from Austin—I figured it was now or never.
“Mornin’,” I say to the receptionist pointing to Blair’s closed office door. “Just here for Hart.”
My entire arm trembles when I lift it to knock on the heavy wood door.
“Come in,” Blair’s voice fills the dark spaces inside me, and I take a deep breath before entering.
Instead of being prim and proper behind her large oak desk, she’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. Heels tossed aside, hair up in a ponytail, and a sea of scattered paperwork around her. Despite the warm lighting, sugar cookie aroma, and instrumental music playing softly, the vibe of the room is tense.
She looks up at me and confusion washes over her face. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
With false confidence, I smile. “Taking you for lunch. Repayment for dealing with Peyton, remember?”
Narrowing her eyes, she gestures to the stacks of disheveled paper. “I’m too busy for lunch today. I’ll eat something later.”
“Good thing my plan A came with a built-in plan B.” I wink and head back out the door, leaving her sitting on the floor with her eyebrows pinched, mouth agape.
I knew she’d blow me off, even if she had no reasonable excuse. Although it looks like she genuinely has a good excuse today, and that makes me even more thankful I’d planned a picnic-style lunch. Though I’d hoped for an impressive mountain view while we ate, I’ll take whatever I can get.
I stroll out to my pickup and grab the brown paper bag from the passenger seat, then walk back past the bewildered receptionist and plop down facing Blair on the cold linoleum floor.
“I think your receptionist hates me because she can’t see over the counter, so she has to stand up every time I go through the door.”
“I heard about the face you made when she showed you pictures of her dog last time you stopped in. Betthat’swhy she hates you.”
“That dog looks to be at least four years past its expiry date.”
“Oh my God, she might hear you,” Blair whispers in a threatening voice, eyes nearly bulging from their sockets.
“Enough talk about living taxidermy when we’re about to eat. Thought we could have a nice picnic outside…enjoy the sunshine or whatever. But I guess this cave you call an office works just as well.” I start unpacking the bag, handing her a can of Diet Coke. “Seriously, though. How can you work when it’s this dark in here?”
She leans forward to look at the small cardboard boxes I’m pulling out of the bag, clearly interested in lunch despite saying she didn’t want it. “The overhead lights are obnoxiously bright and make a revolting humming sound. It’s too overstimulating.”
“Right. Sorry, I should’ve guessed that was the reason.”
A huff of air blows from her nose. “No need to apologize. You’re not expected to know every single thing about me anymore.”
I expect that of myself, though.
“What if I want to know everything?”
Wiggling a finger under the metal tab, Blair opens the can of pop with a fizzing hiss. “Then you can ask me questions. For now, though, you can know about my time-consuming project—organizing every single file in the office so Wanda can upload the info to the server.”
