The men continue talking as I search the ranch again for my bestie again, spotting Gumby, a three-legged Australian Shepherd who rarely leaves her side, emerging from a grove of trees. Moments later, Macy and Ryder appear behind the eager pup, holding hands. When they get closer, I notice that her cheeks are flushed, her messy bun is extra messy, and her smile is so bright it’s almost blinding.
God my heart is so full for her. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s my best friend.
I’m glad the night atThe Rusty Nailwas not for nothing. It was apparently a stepping stone in the two of them realizing theywere meant to be together. I don’t like to claim full credit for their relationship, but I certainly deserve a sliver of it.
My gaze snags on Wyatt, and my pulse trips.
Did he really kiss me on the forehead, or did I just imagine that part? And what does it mean if he did?Don’t go there, Ev.
“You found Birdie!” Macy exclaims, approaching the alpaca cautiously. She reaches out her hand, and Birdie tilts her head. Her unicorn hat slides to one side, the horn sticking out sideways. It makes her look even more ridiculously cute.
“She came home,” Wyatt explains.
“Home?” I repeat.
“Until a few weeks ago, she lived in your backyard,” Ryder explains as though it’s common knowledge. “In the shed.”
“Wait. Was anyone going to tell me the shed in my backyard was actually an alpaca hut?” I ask the group. “Because I don’t remember anyone mentioning that detail.”
“We were taking bets on how long it would take you to notice therewasa shed,” Wyatt chimes in.
Macy just shrugs. “It’s true.”
I want to be offended, but the feeling doesn’t last. If Birdie hadn’t shown up, it might’ve been days—maybe even weeks—before I noticed I hada backyard at all.
“Can you keep her here for now, Paps?” Wyatt asks. “I want to look into a few things before she goes anywhere.”
“You think Birdie’s in some sort of trouble?” Ryder asks, unthreading his hand from Macy’s and putting his arm around the small of her back instead. The small but intimate gesture makes something deep inside me ache.
When I left behind my life in Oklahoma, the last thing I cared about was love or dating or relationships. After the reality check that completely tossed my world upside down, letting someone get close to me felt incredibly…reckless.
Even now, love feels like some faraway dream for anyone elsebutme. It’s safer for everyone involved if I stay closed off until I figure out what’s wrong with me. Maybe I never will. Maybe Stormy will become the self-appointed leader of my future cat clowder.
“Something’s off about all this,” Wyatt says, that protective tone catching me off guard once more. Heat tangles in my belly. The overwhelming urge to tackle the man in front of everyone assaults me.
Shit, shit, shit.
Being around him this makes me feel a little insane, probably amplified by my calling him sexy. Time to get away from the good sheriff before I do something stupid I can’t take back.
“Hey,” I say to Macy. “What’s this I heard about fresh baked cinnamon rolls?”
As curious as I am to find out what’s going on with Birdie, I feel it is imperative to put some distance between me and one Wyatt Knight. Since the alpaca is staying on Stone Ranch for the time being, I can get my updates on her via my bestie later.
“Gina’s been baking up a storm to thank everyone who’s pledged future donations once our tax-exempt status is approved,” Macy says, looping her arm through mine and leading me away from the men and Birdie. “I promise I’ll take you to the main house soon, but first, I need to stop by and check on Molly and her colt.”
“How is the little guy?” I ask as she leads us to the stable.
“Cute as can be, but onery as hell,” Macy says with a laugh. “Which is one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you.”
“Just because I have an inner wild child doesn’t mean I can speak baby horse. If you’re expecting me to help the little guy see reason, I’m afraid you’re asking the wrong person. I’m not the wild horse whisperer. You think Gertie’s a problem now?—”
“No,” Macy says, laughing louder. “I don’t expect a miracle like that.”
“Oh good.”
“If anyone’s a horse whisperer, it’s Ryder’s brother Weston. But that’s not what I’m asking.”
“Then what are you asking?”
