Page 47 of Dirty Cowboy

“Saw the Sheriff on the way. Said you're looking into Huntz.” His thick eyebrows knit together.

“I am,” I say, keeping my voice even.

Derek leans in, his hands bracing against the worn countertop. “I was a teenager when I knew the bastard. He always found a way to ruin your day. Nobody liked him. One spring, Blake and I dragged a bag from the river. Huntz had trapped five kittens inside.” His jaw clenches. “And on Halloween, he handed out matches.”

My stomach twists.

“So you’re saying I should be careful?”

“No, Emma.” His voice drops to a near whisper, his eyes sharp with warning. “I’m saying you should leave it alone.”

The bakery door swings open with a gust of wind, rattling the Harvest Fest flyers in the window.

I swallow hard. “Thanks. I appreciate the warning.”

Derek doesn’t move. He lingers, lowering his voice even further. “After Annabelle and Eric were found, his old house burned down.” His gaze locks onto mine. “If you ask me, that place is haunted.”

A chill slides down my spine. Haunted or not, Huntz’s name alone feels like a storm cloud rolling in, dark and heavy with unspoken threats.

Derek finally pulls back, grabbing the coffees waiting for him. “Have a great day, ladies.”

Misty picks up our remaining order as he heads out, then turns back to me with a smirk.

“I promise, Blake isn’t as crazy.”

I let out a short laugh. “He drove us from the train station. Eric’s helping him with the foal.”

“Cool. I love baby animals.”

She on her heel and leads the way outside.

I follow her down the road, the dirt kicking up behind us until I spot a shiny pair of cowboy boots with a sunflower design in a thrift store window.

“Hey, do you mind if I try these on? I didn’t get a chance to pack my boots.”

“Sure.”

Minutes later, I have a pair of new boots and a wide smile stretching on my face.

“You like shopping?” Misty asks, guiding me toward the river.

“I like shopping for necessities.”

“And the boots are a necessity?”

“When you’re engaged to a cowboy, they certainly are.”

She chuckles, and we settle onto a wooden bench by the river. She sets her coffee down in the grass and hands me a warm, flaky croissant. The buttery texture melts instantly on my tongue, rich and decadent.

Misty reaches into her bag, pulling out a beige folder and sets it on my lap.

“What do you want to know about Huntz?”

I sit up straighter.

“For starters, where did he live?”

She exhales. “The house north of Eric’s property. Huntz used to be Joanne and Ethan’s neighbor.”

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