Charlie: So what I’m hearing is that you did commit animal theft. I’m so proud.
Birdie: Thanks?
Wren: Look at you out here building a criminal empire one farm animal at a time.
Briar: Guys, focus! I have a plan and will loop you in on our way over to Birdie’s place.
Charlie: Fine. But I’m driving.
Wren: Good luck! I expect at least one incriminating selfie!
Charlie: I’ll add a blur filter for plausible deniability.
Wren: Perfect. I’ll have your bail money ready just in case. *wink face emoji
Panic creeps in as I realize there’s a good chance we’ll get caught moving Peaches and Daisy, and that they’ll be taken away. I don’t care about getting in trouble for rescuing them. All that matters is making sure they’re not sent somewhere they’ll be neglected or mistreated.
My hands shake as I stock a shelf with grooming supplies. I pause, gripping the edge of the counter while my heart pounds in my ears. I can barely focus on anything beyond the dread settling in my stomach. It’s a good thing my shift is almost over. Otherwise, I’d be scrambling to make an excuse to leave early.
In the midst of my spiraling thoughts, my phone goes off.
Walker: I know you’re worried, but we’ll come up with a plan. I promise.
Birdie: You told Briar about Mrs. Bixby’s complaint.
It’s a statement, not a question.
Walker: Yeah. I overheard her filing a complaint with Mason.
Birdie: You do know that as a deputy fraternizing with criminals is frowned upon, right?
Walker: No one messes with my girl.
My heart nearly beats out of my chest when I realize that he’s willing to put everything on the line for me. At this moment, whatever is happening between us feels as tangible as every breath I draw.
I glance down when my phone buzzes again, and what I see solidifies my confidence that no matter what comes next, things will work out as long as Walker is by my side.
Walker: See you soon, troublemaker.
“We should wait for the guys to get here,” Briar whispers.
She’s standing near the shed door, angling a lamp hooked to the handle while Charlie and I attempt to coax Peaches and Daisy out. It’s important that we stay quiet and avoid drawing attention. My neighbors are far enough away that any noise shouldn’t travel, and the light shouldn’t alert them, but I wouldn’t put it past Mrs. Bixby to pull an all-nighter just to keep an eye on my place. Thankfully, when we got here, every light inher house was already off, so I’m hoping she stuck to her early bedtime—our whole plan depends on it. To play it safe, Charlie parked her SUV out of sight from the road.
She and Briar picked me up from work, and we came straight to my place. Walker met Heath and Jensen at the ranch, and they should be here soon. Caleb’s having a sleepover at the ranch house with Julie and Samuel, and they think we’re all going out for drinks, which is a lot easier than explaining that we’re relocating stolen animals to keep me out of jail. I can’t imagine they’d be thrilled about their son dating a convicted criminal, even if my reasons were justified.
Your relationship isn’t real, remember?
It’s a sobering realization, one I’m struggling to process. What began as an agreement to pretend to date Walker—which I once thought was a brilliant idea (I blame the tequila shots)—has turned into me picturing what it would be like if this were real. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that eventually we’ll have to talk about it, and I’ll either have to confess my feelings or risk watching him move on. The thought makes my stomach turn.
Charlie scoffs. “Not sure why you roped the guys into this. We’ve handled countless rescues on our own and have never needed a man’s help—let alone three.”
“We’ve never had to move a three-hundred-pound donkey with an attitude problem before,” Briar says, nodding to Peaches, whose gaze is fixed on Charlie as she holds a loose lead rope around her neck.
“Oh please. I’ve survived you and Birdie both hangry on a road trip with only a handful of granola bars and no gas stations within a fifty-mile radius.” She adjusts the rope in her hand as she rolls up her sleeves. “I’ve got this.”
Tonight, she’s rocking a pair of black leather tights with a long-sleeve graphic tee that readsFree Spiritin vintage lettering above a minimalist line drawing of flying birds scattered in frontof a silhouette of rolling hills and meadows. She’s completed the look with platform Dr. Martens—clearly not letting our last heist, where she nearly tripped in heels while running across a field, get in the way of her fashion choices.
Charlie gently tugs on the rope, clicking her tongue. Peaches glares back, refusing to budge from where she’s standing in the corner, utterly unimpressed, looking like she’s drafting her next PETA complaint for being woken up and dragged out of her warm bed.
