“Shall we?” I almost grumble. Soft fingers settle in my extended palm as she nods with a shy grin.
Our feet tangle as I move us toward the dance floor, Betty nearly toppling over as she fights for balance. Grabbing hold of her waist, her eyes meet mine. An emotion I’m convinced I imagined passes behind them, and then it’s gone the moment she looks away.
We sway to the beat. No way I’m trying a real slow-dance or two step when she’s this drunk. The emergency room is not where I’m ending tonight. Hand still on her waist, I keep her close, allowing her to lean against me for support.
“You’re pretty,” she grins up at me, her arms looped around my neck.
I’ve never looked at Betty as anything more than a younger sister. She always seemed that way, given our eight-year age difference, but despite her drunken, flushed cheeks, she has grown into a beautiful woman. There’s no denying it. Her body is insane, and her brown eyes seem to sparkle like the stars she was obsessed with.
“Thanks,” I snort.
She nods, continuing to stare up at me. One song merges into another, but I hold her closer with each one. For an unwanted babysitting gig, this definitely isn’t the worst.
“You know, Nash, you’re the man of my dreams. I’ve thought about you every day since I was ten years old. Do you know what it’s like being in love with someone for so long and they don’t know?” she snickers to herself, before her fingers sink into my hair. “Well, now you do, I think. Yeah, I’m in love with you, Nash, and there’s no one I want more than you.”
Fuck.I didn’t sign up for this.
Chapter 1
Betty
Coffee.
I need coffee.
A massive quadruple-shot coffee.
Give it to me, black as night. Maybe then I won’t feel like the walking dead.
Two months ago, when I agreed to take on the manager position here at Boulder Ranch for the new B&B and cabins, I thought nothing of it. River asked for help. I said yes. It’s what I do. How hard could it be to run a few bedrooms in the Miller house and some cabins?
Though the job seemed simple enough—checking the cowboys in and out and ensuring everything functioned in the houses—it was also a potential ticket to freedom. I’ve been working at the Thirsty Pony since I was eighteen. But lately I’ve been itching for more.
At the time, it was some easy cash while I was in college studying astronomy, and then I never left. It’s easy to findcomfort in what you know in a place like Cole County. Plus, staying in this small town was always my fate. The Hugheses don’t leave Cole County, but I could leave the bar. I could find something I love versus the only future I thought I could have. The weight of mindlessly serving drinks and smiling when I didn’t want to was slowly bringing me to my knees.
Over time, the only force that kept me walking through those doors night after night was loyalty. The same loyalty I’ve always believed I owed to the Hughes name. It didn’t matter that I yearned for something different, something more. Cole County and that bar kept me chained right where I was.
Who am I kidding? They still do.
“Oh, wait! No.” I charge forward as the movers carry couches toward the newly converted Miller house. “Those go in the cabins out back.”
The guy grunts at me, cocking his head to the side, signaling his men to follow.
As I turn to watch them haul pieces of the matching taupe L-shaped couches that will be in each of the six cottages, I’m questioning what I agreed to. Did I give myself yet another entity to pour my loyalty into?
Somehow, I expected to show up on day one, make sure things were in order, check reservations, and then go home at night.
But when the Garrisons handed me the keys, they meant the entire operation. From the day construction started until the day I quit, Miller Inn is mine.
Patting my pocket, the sharp edges of those keys poke my thigh. We’d digitized everything with keypads, linking them to a central tablet, but I’ve kept the original keys in my pocket every day like a personal good luck charm.
With only a week before the Boulder Ranch rodeo season begins, the pressure of my opening night looms over me. There were several speed bumps along the way. The horrid winterweather, combined with conditions too wet for construction and the wrong materials shipped, inevitably delayed our progress. That’s why we’re seven days from opening, and I’m just getting furniture for the dang cottages.
Sadie Dillard, River’s childhood friend, was here yesterday setting up all the computer systems and tracking programs I’d need to manage the place. Thank goodness for her. I can navigate those sorts of things just fine, but the configuration is way over my head.
I’d stared at her overly round belly the entire time. The thing protruding so far, I’d once again asked her if she was having multiple babies. Instinctively, I’d rubbed the expanse of my soft stomach, the memories threatening to take over my mind. But I didn’t let them. I couldn’t. There was too much to do, and Betty needed to be chipper and on her game.
“Just one,”she’d groaned, attempting to stand from my desk chair.
