"I asked if you'd call on Hank Ouray tomorrow. We need to see if his family will stand with us even though their land wasn't targeted." Her mouth tightens. "Funny how it's just our land that got hit with this designation."
Hank runs the Cornerstone Ranch, just south of Stonegate. They raise cattle and cutting horses. We're about the same age, went to school together before I took off for the rodeo circuit. Good guy.
"Sure," I say. "I'll ride over in the morning."
"Thank you." There's relief and gratitude in Mom's voice. "It'll mean more coming from you."
I nod, though part of me wonders if that's true anymore. I haven’t been around for a few years, and I won’t be here long. This place has a way of sucking me in and I’m doingmy best to avoid it. Going over to Hank’s is going the wrong way but how can I say no?
I need a distraction and there’s a real pretty brunette who is full of them.
Six o'clock can't come fast enough. I'm going to figure out what makes Kinsley Rose tick, and we can spend a little time unwinding.
Eleven
MY MOM WARNED ME ABOUT MEN LIKE HIM.
KINSLEY
I’ve been lying to myself all day, telling myself I can handle Wyatt Halloway.
I smooth my hands over the simple sage green dress I changed into—then out of and then back into. “It’s just dinner,” I insist. “Nothing but returning a favor.”
I catch my reflection in the entry way mirror—my cheeks are flushed and I’m wearing date-night makeup.
Even I don't believe myself anymore.
I open the door at his knock and—holy wow.
Wyatt Halloway stands on my porch looking like trouble wrapped in denim and starlight.
My fingers actually itch to touch him.
I shove my hands deep into my dress pockets as fire races through my blood. His brown hair curls at the edges whereit meets the collar of a navy button-down that should be illegal in all fifty states. The color makes his storm-gray eyes look absolutely wicked, and when he shifts his weight, the fabric pulls across his chest, and my mouth goes dry.
He's rolled the sleeves up to his forearms—because apparently, he wants to kill me. There's a small scar on his left knuckle that I want to trace with my fingertip. That thought alone should send me running from him; instead, I'm standing here like an idiot, probably staring, definitely forgetting how to breathe like a normal human being.
But it's what he's holding that stops my heart entirely.
A caramel apple.
"You brought me a caramel apple?" The words are soft and wondering and entirely too revealing about how much this simple gesture means to me.
His mouth curves into a devastating half-smile. "Hard to forget a beautiful woman enjoying a caramel apple."
I’m immediately back in Cheyenne, enjoying a treat from my childhood and eavesdropping on him and Jake. I had no idea he was paying that much attention to me then.
But he noticed.
I mean, I certainly felt an attraction to him, but I had no idea it went both ways. "You're good, roughie." If this is an act, it’s the best I’ve ever seen.
His cocky grin returns. "What you're saying is that it's working."
I chuckle at him and step back from the doorway. "I suppose you should come in before the neighbors start talking."
“Don’t worry. The cows aren’t much for gossip.” He cocks his head to the side and his forehead wrinkles in anendearing way that he just can't help as he steps inside. His gaze lands on the table set for two and a vase of fresh flowers from the garden outside. "I thought I was taking you to dinner."
I shake my head, still feeling the slight tinge of headache that extra strength Advil couldn't chase away. "I cooked." He hesitates and I am so satisfied that I've taken him by surprise.