I shake my head and stare at my dark phone screen. Just like Houston to drop a bomb and then abruptly leave. What does he mean, Shelby had a thing for me? Never, not once, did she and I cross that friend line. We mutually agreed right from the start to only be friends. Partly because Houston is right. I wouldn’t have been able to give her what she wants, so why ruin a good friendship?
He must be wrong. That’s the only option here that makes sense.
Lifting my right hip, I pull out my wallet and stare at the napkin, both our signatures faded over the years but still legible.
“There’s no way,” I tell Nelly. He licks my arm, then starts sneezing out the sawdust, making a racket. “There’s no way Shelby had a thing for me. Not then, not now, not ever. And that’s that.”
I tuck the napkin back in my wallet and get busy finishing this project. When I’ve got it completed to my satisfaction, I textthe client to schedule a pick-up time and head for my truck, intent on getting to Ridge and seeing what kind of help he needs over there.
When I get to the big house, Shelby’s truck is in the driveway. Nelly came along but abandons me to chase after Meemaw’s chickens. I head for the paddock, wanting to see if this morning’s round netted any more sick calves.
Ridge is nowhere to be found. Pops is pacing while on his cell phone, looking like he’s ready to try his luck in a fistfight. Shelby’s down on the ground in the corner of the paddock with a calf I don’t think was here yesterday. Wade Barlow, the young farmer who rents part of our land, is hovering just a bit too closely to Shelby, his gaze taking in her backside as she’s crouched down.
I clear my throat, and his eyes shoot to mine. He lifts his hand to wave at me, stupid grin on his face, like we’re pals. Okay, fine, normally we are pals, but not today. I glower at him and decide we need better rules on who can come into the paddock.
“Got some wheat to harvest, Barlow?”
Shelby glances up at the sound of my voice, but her hands stay busy, working on the calf. I step up to the group, putting my body between Shelby and Wade’s eyeballs. He won’t be staring at my fiancée on my watch.
“Finished up yesterday,” he proudly proclaims.
A man in overalls and a worn-out straw hat shouldn’t have that much confidence. I appreciate the rental income he provides the family, and I definitely appreciate farmers in general. I just don’t appreciate him sticking to Shelby like white on rice.
“Awesome. Get the fuck out.”
His smile slips from his face. “Oh, so it’s one of those days, huh?”
Shelby snorts below us but doesn’t say anything. Frankie, who just came through the gate and heard only the last part of this conversation, hollers.
“Hey there, Wade! How many ground squirrels did you kill this harvesting season?” Oh, damn. Looks like Frankie hasn’t forgiven him for flirting with her wife before Wade knew who she was.
Wade pulls off his hat and pretends to be contrite. “I’m just a peaceful farmer. I don’t slaughter animals.” Then he mumbles so quietly only Shelby and I hear him. “Unlike you ranchers.”
It’s a long-standing joke between us, one we’ll never quit arguing about. Thankfully, none of us takes any of it seriously. With both of us glaring at him, Wade tips his head, flips us the bird, and scoots out of the paddock. Shelby stands up, wiping her hands on her thighs.
“This poor thing is miserable. We lost two calves yesterday, and Ridge brought in four more with symptoms this morning.”
We all look over at Pops, who’s now growling into the phone. “Who’s he talking to?”
Shelby makes a face. “I think it’s the bank.”
Dread lines my stomach with lead. I know the land and the big house are paid off, but property taxes and ongoing expenses of running a ranch this size required Pops and Meemaw to take out a loan a few years ago. When everything goes right, we can make those payments and still make a living. But when calves start dying off more than the usual, things get dicey.
This place is Momma’s family legacy, and I know Pops feels a lot of responsibility for making things work. In fact, Momma always wanted us to expand the ranch, but we just haven’t been able to. Pops and Ridge fight over who’s to blame for that.
“I’ve got three more to look over before I head out,” Shelby says, quietly moving away to the other calves. I don’t blame her.I wouldn’t want to stick around in uncomfortable silence either if I didn’t have to.
Frankie looks back at me, determination in those brown eyes. “Skye, Meemaw, and I have some ideas to help us out. Don’t you worry.”
I make a face. “Uh yeah, I do worry. Whatever Meemaw says, cock fights are illegal, okay? And no, we ain’t turning this land into a pot farm.”
Frankie grins. “Make a lot more money that way.”
“No, Frankie.”
“Alright, alright. Calm down.” Frankie looks behind her where Shelby’s helping another calf, then wiggles her eyebrows and drops her voice when her eyes come back to me. “Want to tell me why you were about to put your hands around Wade’s red neck?”
I lean in, whispering as quietly as I can. “He was staring at Shelby’s ass!”
