That’s what forced me to finally venture into the main town of Willow Ridge today—to run some errands with the hopes of distracting myself, and maybe finding some inspiration in… a thrift shop?
Honestly, though, I wish I’d come into town earlier. I couldn’t contain my laughter as I drove down the streets, realising that Willow Ridge hadn’t changed a bit since I’d last visited. Local businesses still line the roads, some buildings all red brick, while others have different coloured wood-panelled fronts and awnings. Black iron streetlights are dotted along the pavements, and Auntie Grace’s favourite café, Sitting Pretty, still rests on the corner of Main Street, its mint-coloured walls slightly faded now. I couldn’t quite bring myself to stop by and grab a smoothie, though, my chest a little heavy at the memories of our summer afternoons sat outside.
Maybe next time I’m in town. Baby steps, right?
“This all looks great, Miss Rory. We’ll make sure to find your great aunt’s stuff a nice home.” June piles the bag beside the others I brought in. “I hope you enjoy your time here—though, I’m sure Mr Hensley’s grandson is looking after you.”
I have to stifle my laugh. How is it that Wyatt is finding ways to annoy me without even being around?
“Oh.” Another forced smile. “He really is.”
“Enjoy your day, sweet.” June waves me out the shop, the bell above the door tinkling as I leave.
I rub a hand across my chest where a strange pressure builds, knowing I’ve parted with the first belongings of Auntie Grace. Eventually it will be the whole ranch and… well, we’ll get to that when we get there.
Right now, I’ve got some food shopping to do—the groceries that Wyatt got in for me when I arrived lasted longer than I expected, but I’m now down to a few crumbs and seriously craving my homemade granola. My hopes that Willow Ridge’s small grocery store will cater for my usual food preferences are incredibly low, but I’ll find a way to survive until I’m feeling confident enough to drive further to somewhere with a bit more choice.
Besides, spending an afternoon shopping around a quaint town with mountains for a backdrop and golden sunshine raining down on me isn’t the worst thing in the world. In fact, as I dawdle down Main Street, I let myself romanticise this moment a little and close my eyes, basking in the sun’s warmth on my face, the sound of soft chatter as I pass shops, and the occasional low hum of a truck driving by—
I suddenly whack into something solid.
Two thick, warm arms wind around my waist. My eyes shoot open, discovering a broad chest in a plaid shirt, a couple of buttons undone to reveal light-brown skin and dark chest hair. A steady scent of leather and pinewood encompasses me, and I let myself breathe it in, relishing in the way it seems somewhat familiar. For a second I consider just letting myself enjoy the view.
That is, until he speaks.
“You alright there, darlin’—oh, it’s you.” Wyatt’s head rears back, brow furrowing as he gets a better look of my face. His cowboy hat blocks out the sun, casting a shadow down over his sharp, dark features in a way that has me unsure whether I want to run away or draw myself closer.
But then I’m alarmingly aware of the fact that he’s still holding me, large hands now splayed over my ribs. His grasp on me is gentle, yet stable, like if I fell, he’d catch me in a flash.
I wriggle a little in his grasp. “Sorry, I—”
Wyatt instantly flinches, tearing his hands away. Something akin to disgust paints his hardening expression, accompanied by a subtle shake of his head. It takes him a second longer to also stop staring at me and push his face back into his familiar, casual scowl.
“Where did you come from?” I half-laugh, trying to muster up a smile as I peer around the corner from where he appeared. I’d assumed he’d still be on the ranch. Maybe June somehow summoned him when she mentioned him—speak of the devil and all that.
“You should watch where you’re going,” is all he says, his arms now folded, closing that chest off from me properly. Not up for chit-chat—I should’ve learnt that by now. If our interaction is about to follow its usual pattern, he’ll be sighing and rolling his eyes at me in no time.
Maybe I should write a book about how to piss off a cowboy, because I somehow have a natural talent for that. I could even turn it into some sort of scientific experiment—try out a bunch of wellness practices in front of him and see which ones anger him the most. Oh, I bet he’d just love manifestation. I’m sure I still have my old research methods textbooks from my psychology degree somewhere. Not entirely certain that’s the vibe my publisher and agent are hoping for though, sadly.
“Wow, thanks for the advice,” I say with a saccharine smile, brushing out the creases from my white broderie sundress. “I’ll be sure to post that quote on Instagram later—so inspiring.”
Wyatt practically snorts, his arms tensing against his chest, barely contained in the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. I get another quick glance of his mountain range tattoo. It’s not far off the view behind Willow Ridge.
“Such a positive positivity influencer, aren’t you?”
My next inhale is much longer than necessary—that struck a nerve Wyatt isn’t even aware of. He regards me, mouth twitching into a smirk and dark eyes sparkling wide as he awaits my response. My retaliation. But what does he want me to say?
I might have only known him for a few days, but I can already tell the last thing he wants to do is listen to me vent about my chaotic thoughts and messed up confidence right now.
Even I’m getting tired of it.
So, instead I make a noise of contemplation, before replying, “And I thought you said you didn’t usually randomly grab women.”
He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, angling his jaw. But then he brushes my comment off with a shrug. “I also don’t usually have to deal with annoying little princesses strutting about my territory, but times have changed recently.”
His territory? I’m half expecting him to whip out two pistols and start going on about how this town ain’t big enough for the both of us. Lord, give me strength. Maybe Wyatt’s presence is just the universe’s way of telling me to get my ass in gear and sort the bloody ranch out.
I take in a calming breath as I check down at my watch, realising if I want to get in a call with anyone from home—maybe my older half-sister, Sophie, if she’s not on a night shift—then I need to get my shopping done quick.