I stand no chance of avoiding him for the rest of our time here. I’m not entirely sure what the next few days look like, but I know Abigail has celebrations planned around the clock for Stetson. From what her husband, Kyle, told me last night after one too many cocktails, Stetson never entertains at the ranch with anyone but family, so they want this to be a week of quality time with his people.
That’s great. Great for those who are actually considered hispeople, and not so great for people like me whowantto be his people but are secretly someone else’s people.
When we locked eyes from across the hall before bed, I felt my entire body grow numb. My heart. My breathing. All of it. What we have is over because of me. It’s over because of my deal with the devil, and I can’t do anything to change that. I need this money. My mom needs thismoney, and I have a feeling that if Stetson knew that, he would understand. But it’s too late to beg for forgiveness, I’m afraid.
Then again, the fact that he and Nathaniel are best friends still doesn’t sit well with me. It makes me question if Stetson really knows him. But that would be crazy, right? Of course he knows him. They’ve been friends for nearly half their lives.
I’m probably just overthinking it.
The one thing I’m not overthinking, though, is the woman I saw whispering to Stetson by his bedroom door. Everything seemed hush-hush, despite his eyes on me. But then again, that seems to be an intuition he and I share. All I know is that she was stunning and seemed eager for his attention.
Never in my thirty years of living have I felt an impulse to vomit from a sight alone—especially one caused by jealousy rather than disgust. The view of them together had my stomach churning, making my tiny white lie to Austin a damn near reality. Her body language made it clear they’re physically familiar with each other.
And I hate that.
But I’d be a lying fool if I said I didn’t feel the smallest amount of joy watching her exit the back door of Stetson’s house less than a minute later.
This morning, however, I’m choosing to stay positive the best way I can—reminding myself I’m another day closer to the finish line.
The weather in Texas is comparable to Florida in a way. Except there’s much less humidity here, but the heat hits the same. If not worse.
I hope whatever it is we have in store today, it involves water.
Please include water.
I decided to start the morning early, craving a cup of coffee and a bit of quiet before the rest of the guests wake up. It feels strange being in Stetson’s home and going through his things to find what I’m looking for.
Abigail said to make ourselves at home, so that’s what I’m gonna do. I know everyone else who stayed in the guest barn will likely be headed to the kitchen shortly for their morning pick-me-ups, so I forced myself off the bathroom floor and got dressed quickly.
Luckily, Austin is dead to the world, providing me with some much-needed distance from his clinginess and wandering hands.
Already finding a pot of coffee brewed, I locate the cabinet with the cups, remembering seeing Stetson sipping from one last night. Four rows of cups stare back at me, each unlike the rest. Does he have a coffee addiction?
I reach for the white one at the front, truly not caring which I drink from, just needing caffeine like a drug. I’m halfway to the brewed pot when a feminine voice stops me. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” I pivot quickly, needing to see who’s speaking. However, I could have done without seeing the beautiful woman from last night up close. I’ve never been self-conscious, but Jesus on horseback, her skin is perfect. Long blonde hair, looking like she just came from the salon, fresh blowout in tow. “He gets a bit territorial over his coffee cups. That one in particular.”
The mysterious woman points at the cup in my hands.
“This one?” I ask, holding it high.
“Something about the chip in it. If you ask me, it’s the most boring of his collection.” She smiles before offering me her hand. “Jules.” I return the gesture, but not before looking down to find the smallest chip on the rim of the cup, less than an inch away from the handle.
Is this her attempt at being kind? Or just an assertion of dominance?
I hate that she knows that quirky fact about Stetson. That makes her important. An important enough person in his life to know that he favors the old white cup with a chip on the rim.
“Cove,” I respond with nowhere near the same energy as her. “Thanks for the heads up.” Jules just nods and stands there. I’m not sure if she’s waiting for me to replace it, but if so, she’ll be waiting all day because I’m using it.
I fill it with coffee an inch away from the brim and search the fridge for creamer, a loud praise seeping from my lips the moment I spot a carton in the back of the fridge.
Hazelnut. Perfect.
I prepare it in silence, not expecting this conversation to go any further.
“I’m surprised we haven’t met, actually,” she continues. “Figured I would have seen or at least heard about you.”
I smirk, and I hope my dislike for her is already clear. “I’m just visiting.”
“Not for long, I’m assuming?”
