Page 55 of Orphan Girl's Mountain Men

He huffs. "Partly. I went there to forget about you. It didn't work, and I let myself get baited. That's on me, not you."

He nudges a rock with his boot. "I thought I was growing up. Getting smarter. But apparently I still take the bait."

I don't know what to say.

He looks at me. "None of them were you, Hailey. That's why it didn't work."

Before I can respond, someone calls his name. He nods once and jogs off.

Leaving me breathless, heart aching.

That afternoon, I hustle through my work so I can bake with Grace. I promised her cupcakes and 'frosted lollies'. I'm not even sure what those are—but we'll figure it out.

When Lennon's truck pulls in, I meet them at the veranda. Grace leaps into my arms.

"Are we making frosted lollies now?" she beams.

"You bet."

While Lennon gets her washed up, I google frosted lollies. A few candy lollipops come up, and a few treats with frosting appear in the listings. Nothing actually called 'frosted lollies' though. I sigh. I guess it'll have to be a team experiment.

Grace returns, clean and vanilla-scented from the hand soap. Lennon joins us in an apron. I decide to start with the cupcakes, since I know what I'm doing with them.

As I'm getting Grace to measure out the flour into the mixing bowl, Reed strolls in.

"Well, well, well. Y'all weren't gonna bake without me, were you?"

"You don't have an apron, Uncle Reed," Grace scolds. "You can't bake without an apron."

He nods gravely. "You're right, Grace darling. I'll go grab one. Can't break the baking code."

And just like that, the tension in my chest begins to ease.

For now.

CHAPTER 20

Dean

"Howdy there, partner."

My mood's already in the shitter, but hearing that reed-thin voice with its fake-ass cheeriness makes my day immediately worse. I straighten up from repairing a gap in the outer fence and turn to see a lanky old man in a cowboy hat that's trying too hard.

"Sinclair. I thought I told you next time I caught you on my land, I'd shoot you."

He laughs like I'm joking. I'm not.

"Yeah, yeah, we've had our differences," he says. "But that's all a long time ago—water under the bridge by now, right?" I stay silent, figuring it's the quickest way to get him out of my hair. "I came by to let you know I spotted a few coyotes near the ridge last night. You might wanna keep your animals in till we hunt 'em down."

I nod, thinking back to the dead calf Reed found yesterday. Could've been coyotes, then. But Sinclair didn't come out here to be neighborly. He's never done anything without an angle.

Even before he tried to steal the farm out from under me, I didn't trust him. Something's always felt off—too much fakecharm, too many teeth when he smiles. He's got the slickness of a used car salesman, and he's certainly not the "salt of the earth" type he pretends to be.

"Oh, by the way, while I was in town this morning for a business meeting," he adds, like it's just occurred to him, "I heard a strange little rumor. Something about Reed putting the moves on a sixteen-year-old girl."

There it is.

I raise an eyebrow. "That's a hell of a rumor."

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