Rufus Cadervale.
The guy had a nose for drama and a stick so far up his ass, I was shocked it didn’t poke out his ears.
“You do realize this is technically illegal?” he barked, arms crossed. “You’re disturbing the public peace with… bowel movements.”
Before I could open my mouth, Willa stepped forward. Hands on hips. Chin up. Ready for war.
“And you are?”
He blinked. “Rufus Cadervale the sheriff.”
“Oh wow,” she said, voice sweet as molasses. “Must be exhausting. Policing cow poop. You want a medal or something?”
I tried not to laugh. Failed.
Rufus narrowed his eyes at me. “Didn’t know you were into the fiery ones, Cash. Thought you preferred them eighteen and clueless.”
Willa didn’t even blink.
“Well, if you’d like an invite to our wedding,” she said with a bright smile, “just send your contact info via email.”
Beat.
“Oh wait,” she added. “Right. Internet hasn’t reached your cave yet.”
I lost it.
So did Rufus. But in a different way.
He stomped off, muttering something about citations and morality.
I just shrugged.
“Don’t look at me,” I said. “Can’t leash a wildfire.”
And behind us, McKenzie let out a triumphant moo—right before dumping another pile near the mayor’s flowerbed.
7. CHAPTER BULLY
We were almost home, the sun dipping behind the hills, casting everything in that golden glow. Willa rode beside me, hair wild from the wind, cheeks flushed from either the kiss, the argument, or just being Willa.
I gave her a sideways glance.
“That was something’ back there.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“What, me verbally slapping a grown man in public?”
“I mean the fire,” I said, nodding. “Where the hell do you keep all that when you’re not torching poor Rufus?”
She let out a breathy laugh, softer now.
“It felt good, honestly. Like… stupidly good.”
She looked out across the fields.
“Back home, people know me. Which means they expect me to be the version of me they’ve already decided on. But here? No one has a clue. I could break that pompous guy’s nose and no one would even blink.”
