She whinnies softly, her ears flicking back in annoyance that I know is all for show. She’s a mellow beast with an excess of personality.
“Easy, sweetheart. Don’t make me call you dramatic. I already have one cowboy with too much ego in my head. Don’t you start.”
One cowboy I need to stop thinking about. One cowboy who is absolutely, completely off-limits for about a thousand different reasons.
The mare exhales, a warm puff against my shoulder, and for a moment it’s just us—me, her, and the quiet rhythm of work.
“Willa?”
The sound of my name freezes me mid-motion.
FOUR
charlie
Why didI leave the house?The thought hits me for the third time in ten minutes as I make my way through the barn.
Forty minutes ago, I was stretched out on my couch, beer in hand, watching UC Davis get their asses handed to them by Oregon State. First Saturday off I’ve had in weeks, and I was planning to spend it doing absolutely nothing.
Maybe order a pizza later and fall asleep on the couch like the responsible adult I am. Beau and Jake are both at the arena tonight—riding, doing interviews, probably hitting up the Salt Lick afterward—which means the house is blessedly quiet for the first time in months.
Don’t get me wrong; I love my pack mates like brothers, but sometimes a man needs to scratch his balls and drink beer straight from the bottle without anyone judging his life choices.
Still, when Eli Briggs calls asking if I can take a look at one of his mares before tomorrow’s event, I don’t say no. Work is work, and I’ve got bills to pay. Beyond that, I owe the man a lot. The ranch doesn’t run itself, and the Horses of Hope program needs every penny I can throw at it.
But now I’m wishing I’d hit ignore on my phone instead of answering.
It’s almost nine o’clock and cold as hell already. Even the barns are chilly. I’ll have to pop into maintenance and tell them to check the heaters.
I’ve been working these barns since I was sixteen, back when Caleb and I were just kids trying to make enough money for gas and beer and maybe a date on Friday night.
If only I could have told that kid that it goes by way too fast.
I’ve been in a weird mood lately. I can see the mare’s stall at the end of the aisle just as a sweet scent hits me—buttercups, vanilla, and orange blossom. It tickles my nose like an orange creamsicle. Only one person has ever smelled like that.
It makes the hair on my arms stand up, sends shivers over my skin. The sweet complexity is mouth-watering.
Then I hear a warm, husky voice: “Easy, pretty girl.”
My chest tightens in recognition. Sweet and sultry, with just enough Wyoming left in it to make my Alpha rumble with satisfaction. A warm feeling spreads through my chest that Wyoming still clings to her even after all those years in California.
No… I would’ve heard if she was back. Caleb would’ve mentioned it, wouldn’t he? Her own brother would know if she had come home. She’s probably still in California, living whatever life she built out there.
There’s no way that troublemaker is back in town. Has to be someone else.
I’ve been away for four months, working charity events for Horses of Hope in Montana, Idaho, and Colorado. I haven’t been around the home circuit enough lately to know all the new hires. Plenty of women work the circuit now, though they all work for the main office and not with the animals.
“Don’t give me that look. I know my hands are cold.”
The words wash over me, followed by a husky chuckle.
It’s her.
Her laugh is soft, self-deprecating, and it does something to my chest. Makes me remember being young and stupid and thinking I had all the time in the world to figure out what I felt for my best friend’s little sister.
I’ve spent a long time trying to lock her away in the part of my heart I don’t let myself visit anymore.
But it’s been six years. Six fucking years since she left for college, since I let her walk away instead of telling her how I felt. And I can’t stop the flood of memories from that summer.
