Page 16 of Live, Ranch, Love

She shares a knowing grin. “Yeah, but your face did.”

seven

Aurora

“There’s no way in hell I’m listening to this,” Wyatt grumbles as the next song from Cherry’s phone plays through the stereo. It begins with a quiet guitar solo, before a guy with a strong country accent starts singing about a girl’s eyes, and the backing music builds.

“Why not?” Cherry protests but struggles to stop Wyatt from skipping through songs as she’s navigating the roads. “It’s actually a decent one of his.”

“I don’t know how you’re not sick of hearing them yet.”

Never did I think this would be how I’d spend my Friday night—sat in the back of a car with Wyatt and his little sister, on the way to the bar, whilst they bicker over music taste.

But then a month ago, I never would’ve thought I would be in Colorado, packing up and selling Sunset Ranch. Single and uninspired.

The universe does like to throw curveballs sometimes, doesn’t it? And for some reason, it thought I needed this. Somehow I’ll grow from it, and I look forward to meeting the version of me on the other side of it all.

I’d fully committed to feeling sorry for myself and listening to my sad girl playlist on the back deck until I got too tired and resigned to a bubble bath and bed. I mean, where else could I go? I don’t know anyone here in Willow Ridge, and I still have enough dignity to not take my pity party to a bar alone.

But it seemed the universe also had other ideas for me there too.

In the form of an oddly kind invitation from Wyatt, who up until today I was certain despised me for no good reason.

I can’t deny that it does feel good to be dressed up, even if I am reconsidering whether I’ve gone a little overboard on the country vibe. I couldn’t figure out how to interpret the way Wyatt’s eyes trailed over me. But donning Auntie Grace’s red boots and old shirt felt like a tribute to her, like I was taking a part of her with me into town.

It also feels good to do something out of the ordinary for me and meet new people. God knows I’ve been lonely out here, and being around people always does lift me up.

Cherry’s not stopped talking the whole ride, asking me tonnes of questions about life back in England, and admitting that she’s Insta-stalked me. I’ve also discovered that she’s halfway through college, doing an interior design course which sounds incredible. Her energy is so sweet and vibrant—very different to Wyatt—it reminds me a bit of Sofia, which instantly starts to fill that lonely void in my chest.

Leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the phone screen, I ask, “Who’s the singer?”

“Our brother,” both Wyatt and Cherry say in unison, though their tones are starkly different.

“You’re kidding me—your brother’s famous?”

“No,” Wyatt grunts before finally choosing a song and setting the phone down.

“Yes, actually,” Cherry corrects, her dark red lips grinning at me in the rear-view mirror. “Hunter Hensley.”

I wasn’t wrong when I mentioned her resemblance to Wyatt earlier—she’s got the same light-brown skin and contrasting dark eyes, though hers leave a soft warmth on me, as opposed to the heaviness of Wyatt’s. Her angled features and plush lips are framed by long, layered black hair. I imagine that Hunter’s a mash up of the two of them.

“He’s a country singer,” Cherry explains, pride radiating. “Super talented. He scored himself an amazing record deal a couple of years back, moved to LA, and the rest is history.”

“That’s incredible!” I watch out the window as we finally hit the main town. The strings of lights between the streetlamps are lit up now, like rows of starlight. This place really does feel like it was taken straight out of a cosy book sometimes. We pass by Ruby’s Diner, which used to do the best burgers ever.

Wyatt snorts. “Oh yeah, it’s great that we can’t go into town without being pestered for his autograph.” Twisting round to me, a small curve graces his lips, the faintest dimples appearing amongst his stubble. “One girl once asked me if I had any of his old underwear. Honestly, what the hell?”

The chuckle rings out of me, making Wyatt’s brows jump up. Midnight eyes flick across my face, like he’s joining up my freckles, then he clears his throat and sits forward again.

I’m honestly still baffled that he’s tolerated me for so long. Without mocking me too. I’m not sure if I like it.

“If you ever wanna go to a show, I’m sure we can score you some tickets,” Cherry adds, already so kind. But I’ll be gone soon, so I just smile my thanks, rather than accept the offer. Better not get too attached to anything here.

It’s only a few more minutes before we park up alongside the curb, and Wyatt jumps out to open my door. He shoots me a look when I hesitate, because I’m shocked that he’s suddenly being nice. Is this the same guy that basically called me stuck up the other day?

Still, I climb out, thanking him, and take in the bar ahead, admiring the black wooden panelling. I recognise the building but don’t think I’ve ever been inside.

“Wait, your friend named his bar after himself?” I ask, noting the buzzing neon sign with cursive red letters spelling out Duke’s, a white horseshoe as the backdrop.

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