I blink. “What’s the event exactly?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
“A birthday party. Big ranch just outside town. Kids, parents, the whole damn thing.”
Ranch.
My mind flashes immediately to leather seats, strong hands, Hunter’s voice in my ear, heat and breath and?—
Focus, Lola.
Violet groans. “I can’t run service, manage staff, and handle kitchen timing all at once. It’ll be chaos. And we’re being shoved inside a catering tent.”
I stand and walk over, taking the wine from her hand before she downs half the bottle. “Then I’ll help. I’m good with my hands. Got a perfect customer service smile. What’s the worst that can happen?”
She freezes. “What? Really? It’s going to be hell.”
I laugh, wrapping my arm around her. “I’ll step in. Hand out champagne, serve food, whatever you need. You’re my best friend, V. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
Her eyes widen. “Lola, you don’t have to?—”
“I know. But I want to. Might be able to sneak some good pictures on the ranch, too.”
And maybe throwing myself into work tomorrow is exactly what I need instead of thinking about cowboys and complicated landlords.
She stares at me for a long second. Then throws her arms around me. “You’re saving my ass.”
I laugh, hugging her back. “Yeah, yeah. In return, I need you to look at these two houses I’ve found, and we can get viewings booked in.”
She pulls back, relief flooding her face.
And as she starts talking logistics, all I can think is tomorrow I’m working a party at a ranch.
And knowing my luck?
It’ll probably be his.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
HUNTER
The driveto Red Creek feels longer than it should.
Maybe because every mile closer means I have to see Ashley again. I don’t hate her for what she did to me. I hate her for how she treated Wyatt after.
An affair I could live with, but leaving him? I don’t know how she lives with herself.
I pull up outside her townhouse just after eight, engine ticking as it cools. The lights are on inside. Same place she moved into after she left.
I kill the engine and sit there a second, gripping the steering wheel. This is for Wyatt. Just get the presents and leave.
I step out, boots crunching on pavement, and knock. The door opens a few seconds later. Ashley stands there in leggings and an oversized sweater, hair pulled back, looking… smaller somehow. Less polished than the woman who walked out on us.
Grass ain’t always greener. She learned that lesson. And now, looking back at it, I know my own faults. I didn’t put her first. We never truly loved each other. I thought I could maybe be theloving husband one day for her. The doting dad. And run the ranch.
I couldn’t do it all. And she couldn’t choose between the life I was offering or the drink.
It didn’t work. It was toxic. And that’s why I’ve never had a serious relationship since.
“Hey,” she says quietly.