"Running into you at The Bakery. When we shared that wine I had in my purse and a lemon bar. I feel like that's when our friendship really started."
I remember it exactly. I was sitting at a little table, sketching ideas for the very place I'm sitting in right now. Dakota walked in and ordered dessert like a woman who needed a sugar spike, stat. "You looked so confused about Wes."
She bops my shoulder gently with her own. "You looked pretty confused yourself. Are you ever going to tell me who made you feel that way?"
I look out at the flat, brown fields in the distance. "It doesn't matter. It's long over."
Dakota switches subjects. "How's Jared?"
"Really good." I nod enthusiastically. "He's so nice."
Dakota's silence draws my attention. Her lips are pressed together.
"What?" I ask, picking up a fallen piece of artichoke and popping it in my mouth.
"Nothing."
"Just say it, otherwise I'm going to read your body language and what if I'm wrong?"
Dakota laughs. "You're good." She uses one finger to push a wayward piece of lettuce back into her sandwich. "Every time I ask you about Jared, those are the two words you use to describe him."
I think back to our past conversations, but nothing sticks out. "Good and nice?"
She nods, chewing and brushing away crumbs that have fallen onto Colt's shoulder.
My eyebrows pinch together. "They're not inaccurate."
"Of course not."
"What aren't you saying?"
"I just wonder why you don't have other adjectives to describe him. People aren't 'good' and 'nice' all the time."
"He kind of is." It's true. I've never seen him raise his voice, or even grow frustrated.
Dakota smiles. "As long as you're happy, I'm happy for you."
We finish lunch and Dakota leaves. I review the list she helped me create, trying to prioritize the to-do's in the order they must be done, and then get started on the trailer. Dakota told me not to worry about asking Tenley about using it, that she wouldn't care. I start by opening up all the windows to release the stale air, then clean it top to bottom using the supplies I threw in my car just before I left. My headache is long gone, but the pain in my ass, by the name of Wyatt Hayden, persists.
8
Wyatt
"Wyatt, answer the door."Dakota's standing at my door, knocking for a second time. "I know you're in there."
"Actually, I'm right here."
Dakota jumps a mile, whipping around to face me with a hand on her chest. "You're such an ass."
"You're the one who was banging on my door."
"I was coming to tell you about the Circle B. Jo needs help."
"I'm aware."
She cocks her head to the side, her eyebrows pulling together. "How do you know that? I literally just came from there."
"A little bird told me." There's no way I'm telling her about the meeting with the sheriff yesterday morning, because that would only lead to more questions. My dad hasn't told anybody, aside from my mother, about my near arrest, or the consequences of it.
