Straw scratches my forearms, clinging to the sweat dampening my skin. I push through the pain and savor the burn that makes the veins on my arms bulge like thick corded rope. The bale lands with a dull thud on top of the others, dust bursting into the air, catching in the shafts of sunlight that slice through the warped boards overhead. Nothing like a hard day’s labor to stop your mind from wandering to places it shouldn’t go. Or at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself for the past several hours.
The material of my T-shirt clings to the muscles across my shoulders and back, so I strip it off over my head, use it to mop my brow, then toss it on the nearbysawhorse. Maybe if I move enough, I can drown out the snapshots of her that keep flashing through my mind. Her laugh, that kiss, the giant rock on her finger that belongs to another man.Fuck!
That’s when I hear it. A sound that doesn’t belong.
Gravel shifts under tires, but it doesn’t carry the familiarity of Kade’s truck. There’s no rattle, no choke of exhaust. Whatever it is, it’s too clean for this road, too polished to belong on the dirt lanes of Black River Ranch.
I straighten, chest still heaving, and step into the doorway of the stables, bracing a shoulder against the wooden timber frame.
My eyes catch on a silver Mercedes as it noses closer. Sunlight glints sharply off its hood before it rolls to a stop mere inches from where I’m standing. I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth and furrow my brow.What is she doing here?
On the inside, my pulse pounds hard enough to split me in two, but I keep my jaw tight and my facial expression neutral as the driver’s door opens, and Noah steps out.
She’s fucking stunning in an oversize Morgan Wallen tee, hem brushing her thighs, a slip of lace peeking beneath it like something private she forgot to keep hidden. My chest rises as my gaze licks over tanned legs that seem fucking endless in the red cowboy boots thatclimb above her knees. Country sweetheart wrapped in rebellion, just like always. My mouth dries, and I slide my tongue along my lower lip. She looks more like the girl I used to know than ever, and it’s simultaneously too much and not nearly enough.
I let my eyes drag up, lock on hers, and hold steady. My insides might be burning, but I’ll be damned if I let her see me flinch.
She lingers next to her car, one hand lifting to shield her eyes from the sun.
“What are you doin’ here, Mercedes? Shouldn’t you be back to your new life by now?”
Something like pain flickers across her face, but as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. She steels herself, flashing me a fake smile that doesn’t quite make it to her eyes. “I need to talk to you.” She swallows, her assessing gaze dancing across my sweat-bare skin. “I just… I need to clear the air before leaving.”
A laugh huffs from my chest that’s anything but humorous. “Clear the air,” I echo with a slight nod, turning my back on her as I re-enter the barn. “Think we might be beyond that.”
The silence that follows stretches. Making my way toward the bales, I carry on hauling them into the stack. Anything to keep my hands and mind busy, because if I look at her full-on, I’ll do something we’ll both regret.
Behind me, the audible click of her boots carries her closer. “Five minutes, Rhett. That’s all I’m asking.”
Tossing a glance over my shoulder, I heave out a breath. “What’s the point? Your actions already spoke volumes, and I’d rather not relive you walking out on me.”
“Rhett.” Her voice comes quieter, issuing pleas now. “Five minutes?”
Turning on my heel, I face her again. Foolish mistake. Sorrow lingers in her eyes, and I fucking hate it. But what I loathe even more is how much she still affects me. The last thing I should be thinking is how much I want to erase whatever is haunting her. That’s not my job. Not anymore.
The scent of her perfume drifts through the space between us. It hits me in the back of the throat, and that old ache I’ve been fighting against raises its ugly head. “Don’t you have a plane to catch?” I ask, not looking at her. “Your future is waiting, Noah. No point dragging up the past.”
“I— Can we not do that?”
“What, the truth?”
She flinches, shoulders stiffening as she tries to keep her posture straight. “I’m not here to fight with you.”
“Whatareyou here for, then?” Once again, I turn my back to her, then set the last bale in the row, palm it into line until the stack is straight.
“Can you look at me?”
Giving in to her whispered plea, I rotate on my heel and glare at her. “There was a time I believed I’d never look at anything but you for as long as I lived. Funny how naive pussy makes a man.”
“Charming,” she hisses, but I see the hurt behind her hazel eyes.
What is it about her that makes my inner asshole present himself? Sure, I want to hurt her like she did me, but then the ramifications of my words scrunch her features, and I immediately want to take them back. I hate this. I hate the way my body betrays me by leaning toward her.
“I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you.” Her words are soft but steady. “When Pap died, you—” Her throat works. “You were pulled in half, Rhett. I thought if I— If I went first, you wouldn’t have to choose. I thought I was freeing you.”
“Congratulations.” My voice comes out low, wrecked. “How’s that freedom taste?”
She flinches again, then lifts her chin and takes it on the nose. Always did. “Like shit,” she admits. No spin. No flash. “But I need you to know the truth before I go back.”
