“Thanks. We’ll be back on the road as soon as we finish, though.”
Sensing the woman is uncomfortable from all the attention, I return the conversation back to Walter. “Where’s Shady Pines?”
“In Springdale,” Ester says, her body shuddering. She looks at Delma. “We really should pay him a visit soon. Maybe break him out.” Ester looks at me. “You didn’t hear that, Sherrif.”
I lift my hands in surrender.
Springdale. Fuck, that’s more than an hour away. My schedule is packed this week, but I might have to call in a favor to get an extra day off. More than ever, I feel it’s imperative that I talk to the source. It might be Birdie’s best hope.
“You should take Everleigh with you to visit Walter,” Jeans suggests, her voice low enough that Gary—still gabbing with the women at the table behind him about nursing home escapes—doesn’t hear. There’s a twinkle in her eyes. One I’ve grown used to seeing when her granddaughter comes up in conversation. Though Jean has never interfered, I know she’s hopeful.
Me too, Jean. Me too.
CHAPTER 5
Everleigh
“This has to be some kind of record for you,” Macy says approvingly, hands on her hips as she assesses the impressive amount of work we’ve accomplished these past two hours.
Although my living room is still filled with boxes, they’re more organized now. My kitchen is completely unpacked and put away—aside from pizza boxes and empty cinnamon roll pan on the counter. The couch is clear and my bedroom closet is fully organized. There’s even a set of sheets tumbling in the dryer so I’ll actually be able to sleep in my bed tonight.
“I’d say thank you for all the help, but I know you have an ulterior motive,” I rib, folding a towel from the pile of clean laundry on my couch.
Because I haven’t come up with a good reason to get out of taking photos for the ranch’s new website, I have less than twelve hours to get over the camera issues I’ve had for almost a year. It wouldn’t feel so dauting if I hadn’t nearly had a panic attack moving my Nikon case from the garage to my bedroom closet before Macy came over.
“If I want you awake before dawn and itdoesn’tinvolve severe weather, I know what I need to do.”
I turn my back to Macy, hopeful she doesn’t catch my falling expression at the mention of my former life. The way my stomach flips makes me feel like throwing up. Guilt that I haven’t told my best friend why I moved home so suddenly last summer engulfs me. We used to tell each other everything. But to be fair, I haven’t been fully honest with anyone in a long time. Wyatt knows more about Oklahoma than most—especially since he likely spotted the photos I left out on my coffee table a few weeks back—but there’s a lot I’ve kept hidden even from him.
Some secrets are best left buried deep, where they can’t hurt anyone anymore.
“I don’t want to pressure you, Ev, but I’m here if you want to talk about it. I know we grew apart a little these past couple of years. Part of that is my fault. I was so busy with school and clinicals. But we’re both in Emerald Creek now. I want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what.”
Okay, so shedidcatch the way my face screwed up. Time to change the subject.
“How many animals do you want me to?—”
A loud knock on the door startles me, but I manage to swallow the little scream just as footsteps echo from the garage door. Stormy, who came out of hiding less than ten minutes ago, shoots down the hall toward the bedroom. Poor thing probably thinks the alpaca is back. But it’s not Birdie—just one tall, dark, handsome sheriff in his uniform and Stetson. It should be illegal for any man to lookthatfucking good. God, I’m so screwed.
“Sorry I’m late,” he announces, holding up two of Grandma Jean’s largest to-go Styrofoam cups in his hands.
“Are thoseWe Got Cows?” Macy asks, her eyes widening with her smile.
“They are.” Wyatt flicks his gaze to mine. He winks at me, and dammit if my nipples don’t instantly pebble. “With extra cows.”
That familiar heat tangles in my belly again. Which is stupid. Wyatt knows my ice cream order. I’ve only texted him about an ice cream emergency a dozen times since I moved back home. It’s the same request every time. I need to get this stupid, traitorous body under control. Tonight, after everyone leaves, I’ll take care of things myself. Thanks to Macy’s organizational skills, I know where to locate fresh batteries.
“Thanks to me, we even have spoons,” Macy calls from the kitchen.
I try to make some retort about the one spoon I found yesterday, but the words are too lodged in my throat to escape.
“Where’s this bookshelf?” Wyatt asks, weaving through the box-lined path into the living area to offer me one of the cups.
“In my bedroom,” I say, pointing down the hall before I take the sweet treat from him. “You didn’t bring Thor?”
“He’s at home with Flynn,” he says.
“Our brother is home again?” Macy calls from the kitchen.
