Jett
Townhallmeetingsareby far the dumbest thing to ever grace this town, and this is coming from the place with a giant wooden Sasquatch named Harry and its own festival celebrating the twenty-seven-foot statue. But even though I feel like I’m wasting my time, as the operator of Riggsby Cattle, it’s in my best interest to attend these meetings.
If I wanted to watch grown adults argue, I’d turn onJudge Judy, or hell, I’d scroll the idiocy of the town’s gossip Facebook group. Considering a certain blonde–I still can’t get used to her new hair color– and I are the talk of the town, I’d rather pick my eyeballs out than read about another Wren sighting. How boring are these people’s lives that they have to keep up with her every move?
Pulling open the high school door, the scents of cleaner and teenage angst fill the air. As if going to these meetings wasn’t bad enough, they’re held in the high school gymnasium. I hated attending school when I had to, but now I’m forced to come here once a month and sit in a gym that smells like sweat and rubber. Passing an older group of gentlemen, I give them a terse nod, my mood coiling around me like a snake squeezing its prey.
Scanning the rows of hard plastic chairs, I look for an empty seat away from prying eyes and town busybodies. But in Silo Bay, you have a better chance of seeing a pig fly than avoiding gossip. My eyes land on a row of empty chairs and I side-step people conversing. I step into the empty row at the same timeas someone else from the opposite end. My attention snaps up and my feet falter as I come face-to-face with theoneperson I wanted to avoid.
Without thought, my eyes drink her in. She’s dressed in a cutoff denim skirt, a fitted white tank, and a long-sleeve denim top that hangs off her frame.Always one to rock a Canadian tuxedo.But it’s the way her long, bronzed legs seem to stretch on for miles, even in a pair of tall brown cowboy boots. She’s more beautiful than my memory does her justice.
A soft gasp leaves Wren, pulling me from my obvious perusal. She stares at me, her amber eyes swirling with a haunted darkness. Between her stare and the way she flinched at the farm, she’s hiding something. I don’t know what it is, but I can tell I’m going to hate it.
Even with our past and the animosity thick in the air, there’s a tension mixing between us. One that no time or pain can snuff out. It’s the undeniable chemistry between us. No matter how hard we tried to fight it growing up, it was always there, waiting for us to uncover it. We may hate each other for leaving, but the flame between us continues to smolder.
“Riggsby,” Wren greets, her tone a mix of indifference and annoyance.
My nose flares at my last name leaving her lips. Never in the years we’ve known each other has she resorted to calling me by my last name, unlike most of our classmates. To Wren, I was always Jett…or J. She was the only person to ever shorten my name to only my initial.
“Drummond.” I smirk, a playfulness to my voice.
“I never thought I’d run into you at a town hall meeting. I would’ve thought these meetings weren’t your scene.”
I huff a laugh. “Well, I could say the same for you. From magazine covers to the face of small-town gossip, things sure have changed.”
Her eyes roll, and I’m hit with a wave of need to see them roll in a different way.
A strong hand claps her shoulder, and her entire demeanor changes. Her shoulders bunch to her ears, her back going ramrod straight as her eyes widen. There’s no denying the panic that crosses her features with the unsuspecting touch. My stomach twists. Someone’s definitely hurt her. The flinch from my contact might’ve been an accident, but twice isn’t a coincidence. Nostrils flaring, I snap my attention to the owner of said hand.
“Jett Riggsby, how the hell are you?”
Wren’s shoulders drop, her entire body relaxing, at the familiar timber of her dad’s voice.
“Mark,” I greet, gripping his outstretched hand as I flash Wren a smirk. She might not be able to stand being around me, but her dad loves me.Lovemight be a strong word. Somehow, after all these years, her dad has shown me more respect than I deserve. I have a feeling my father had something to do with that. After all, my dad and Mark Drummond were lifelong friends.
“Isn’t it great having our girl home?” Mark’s smile is beaming. Pride and happiness written all over his face.
“Dad,” Wren groans. “I’m only your girl.”
I don’t miss the dig and the glare in those deep chestnut eyes.
I snort a laugh, shaking my head. “Glad to see LA didn’t burn your fire out.”
A firm hand grips my shoulder, and I jerk my head at the person who has a death wish. Davis stares at me, a shit-eating grin on his face, standing next to me in full uniform. Looks like he lost a bet at the station and has to pull special duty as security. You would think a town hall meeting wouldn’t warrant a police officer on duty, but three years ago, chairs went flying. I can’t even remember what started the ruckus. Maybe something about turning most of the town into a designated outdoor drinking area. Who knows. Half the time, I don’t pay attention.
“Always causing trouble, Riggsby.” Davis chuckles.
“Me?” I mock in offense.
“Haven’t you learned by now?” Wren asks, directing the question to my friend next to me. “Trouble finds Riggsby wherever he goes.”
Mark lets out a deep chuckle before dropping down into an empty seat. I can feel eyes watching us. It seems we’ve caught the town’s attention. When you have a history like ours, it’s not hard to do, but add a police officer standing in the same row as us, and you’ve got front-page news.
Wren Drummond and Jett Riggsby were seen in a scuffle during the town meeting. Authorities had to step in.
“C’mon, we’ve got seats over here.” Davis dips his head at Wren. “Have a nice night, Wren.”
“You too, Davis.”
