She lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug, her cashmere sweater catching the light. “I thought wecould talk.”
“I’m working.”
“Later, then?”
“No.” He stopped a few feet from her and held her gaze. “I want you to get in your car and go. There’s nothing here for you anymore.”
“Cole—” She reached for him.
“No.” His voice came out hard and flat. “I don’t want you here, Callie.”
The crunch of tires on gravel made him look up. His chest tightened when he saw Aftyn’s vehicle pull in. She came through the barn doors a moment later in her jeans and blue sweater, her hair back, and stopped the instant she saw Callie standing there. He watched her take it in, watched her chest rise with a slow breath, and then she kept walking. Chin up. Eyes steady.
She stopped a few feet away, her gaze moving to Callie with the calm assessment of someone who had already taken the measure of the situation.
Callie looked her over, taking in the jeans, the practical ponytail, the worn boots, and something shifted in her expression. “Do I know you?”
“I was at the diner the day you came in for Cole’s order.”
“Ah.” The single syllable carried more condescension than most people could pack into a sentence. “You’re one of the servers.”
“I am. And for what it’s worth, any server in that diner works harder in a morning than most people manage in a week.” Aftyn’s voice was level, but the color had risen in her cheeks.
Callie laughed, the kind of laugh designed to diminish. Aftyn’s jaw tightened and Cole saw the muscle jump beneath her skin.
“Aftyn.” Cole kept his voice quiet. “What are you doing here?”
“Yes,” Callie echoed, her tone a clean imitation of sweetness. “What are you doing here?”
“None of your business.” Each word clipped and clean.
Callie’s eyes moved between them, and something shifted in her expression as it landed. “I see. This is who you’re seeing?” She looked at Cole. “A waitress?”
“We’re rarely called that anymore,” Aftyn said, her hands going to her hips. “You’d think someone from New York would know that. But you’d rather look down at people who actually work for a living.”
“Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m a doctor.”
“And I’m a surgical nurse.” Aftyn’s voice didn’t waver. “Someone a doctor can’t function without.”
Callie blinked. “Then why are you working in a diner?”
“Still, none of your business.” Aftyn turned to Cole, her expression shifting, the heat going out of it. “Can we talk?”
“He’s busy talking to me,” Callie said.
Cole turned to her. His hand closed around her arm, not rough but not gentle either, and turned her to face him. The perfume that had once meant something to him just sat in the air between them now, familiar and completely without pull.
“I’ve already told you. There’s nothing to talk about and I want you off my property.” His voice was low and even. “Don’t come back.”
Callie folded her arms, her diamond bracelet catching the light. “You can’t even tell me why. Because you know you still love me.”
Cole drew a long breath and let it out slowly.
“I don’t love you.” He said it the same way he’d say anything that was simply true. “I love her.” He looked at Aftyn. “I’m in love with Aftyn. That’s why. Now get off my property before I call Sam.”
He was aware, distantly, that the ranch hands had gathered behind him in a loose semicircle, boots planted, weathered faces watching with undisguised interest.
“What?” Aftyn’s voice came out barely above a whisper, her fingers twisting the hem of her jacket.
