I climbed into the truck, my chest feeling strange and tight. As I started the engine, I caught myself grinning like an idiot at the steering wheel.
What are you doing, Sterling?
But I already knew the answer.
I was in trouble.
ChapterThirteen
Rosalie
I hadzero business spending a Friday evening anywhere other than the farm.
But…I wasn'tthatbehind schedule. The bouquets were done, the lotion samples were packed, the eggs were sorted and ready to sell. Tomorrow I just needed to cut some greens in the garden first thing, load the truck, and go.
Everything wasfine.
I deserve a night off, I thought as I grabbed my jacket off the hook, ignoring the little voice that whispered I was probably tempting fate.
I decided to swing by the goat pen, just in case. Force of habit. Or paranoia. At this point, the line had blurred.
Sugar spotted me first and ambled over, butting her head gently against the fence. Chip bounced twice for no reason. Snickers didn't even bother looking up from her hay, which was somehow more alarming than anything else she could have done.
“Okay, listen up ladies.” I gripped the fence post and looked at all three of them. “Tonight? We're staying put. No adventures. No chicken visits. No opening gates that are supposed to stay closed.” I pointed at Snickers. “Especially you.”
Snickers chewed thoughtfully, like she was considering my request.
I tested the latch. Solid. I tested it again, because with these three, paranoia was survival. Then I wedged the spare post against the gate the same way Cal had shown me. Apparently I was learning things.
“I'm serious. One night. That's all I'm asking.”
Sugar bleated softly, which I chose to interpret as agreement.
“Good girls.” I stepped back, brushing hay dust off my hands.
I caught my reflection in the barn window and paused. When had I started caring what I looked like again? The blue linen top was one of my favorites from my Seattle days—soft and flattering without trying too hard. My vintage earrings caught the evening light, and I'd even managed mascara without poking myself in the eye.
Not bad for someone who'd spent most of the day elbow-deep in garden dirt.
My phone buzzed against my hip.
Emily
We have a booth. Abby already ordered fries. HURRY.
I grinned and shoved it back into my pocket.
Tomorrow's market could wait. The greens could be cut at dawn. Everything else was packed and ready. For once, I was going to do something just because Iwantedto.
The drive into town unwound something tight in my chest.
I cranked the windows down. Warm evening air poured through, carrying wildflowers and dry grass and something faintly sweet I could never quite name but always associated with Colorado summers. The mountains had gone pink and golden, the sun melting behind them in long, lazy streaks.
I drove with one hand on the wheel and just breathed.
By the time I pulled into the lot beside the diner, the pink had faded to soft violet. Emily's truck sat near the entrance and I parked beside it.
Inside, the noise hit me first. Laughter and overlapping voices bouncing off checkered floors and red vinyl booths. I spotted Emily immediately, already halfway out of her seat and waving like I might somehow miss her.
