Page 38 of Broken Roads
"Finish that sentence," I growl, pointing the hammer at him, "and you'll be eating through a straw for a month."
He holds up his hands in mock surrender, but his grin doesn't falter. "All I'm saying is, maybe there's a reason you two butt heads so much. Chemistry, and all that."
"Chemistry," I repeat flatly. "Between me and the woman who just this morning called me a scared little boy?"
"Hey, some guys are into that." Sawyer winks, ducking when I toss a glove in his direction. "Seriously though, you've got it bad, man. Never seen you this worked up over someone you supposedly can't stand."
I turn away, unwilling to let him see whatever might be written across my face. Because the truth is, I don't know what the fuck is happening to me. Don't understand why her words cut so deep, why her absence this morning left me scanning the house and yard like some lovesick teenager, why the memory of her in that wet t-shirt still makes my blood run hot.
"It's not like that," I mutter, retrieving my glove.
"Sure it's not." Sawyer turns back to the fence, still grinning. "Just like I'm not the best-looking ranch hand in Montana."
I shake my head, returning to the post. But now that he's mentioned it, I can't stop thinking about Hailey's reaction to the bar invitation. The way the color had drained from her face. The slight tremor in her hand as it closed around her coffee mug. The raw fear that had flashed in her eyes before she'd masked it with that cool professionalism she wears like armor.
That wasn't about me. That was something else entirely.
My next swing goes wide, the hammer barely grazing the post. I curse, readjusting my stance.
"You know," Sawyer says, his voice suddenly more serious, "I ran into Tessa from the bakery yesterday. She mentioned Hailey's been coming by a lot."
My head snaps. "So?"
"So nothing." He shrugs. "Just thought it was interesting. Guess they've become pretty tight. Tessa doesn't usually take to newcomers that fast."
I try to picture it—Hailey and the quirky baker becoming friends. It doesn't fit with the image I've built of Hailey in my head, the stuck-up city girl too good for small-town life. But then again, nothing about her seems to fit the neat box I tried to put her in from the start.
"What else did Tessa say?" I ask, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.
Sawyer's eyes narrow slightly, picking up on something in my tone. "Not much. Just that Hailey seems like 'good people.' Her words, not mine." He pauses, then adds, "Also said something about her being exactly what this place needs, but I think she was talking about the ranch, not you specifically."
I scowl at him, but my heart isn't in it. My mind is too busy trying to piece together the puzzle that is Hailey Monroe. The woman who stands her ground against me without backing down. The woman whose eyes hold shadows deeper than she wants anyone to see.
"Earth to Bradley." Sawyer waves a hand in front of my face. "You planning on finishing this fence today, or should I come back next week?"
I blink, realizing I've been standing motionless, hammer hanging useless at my side. "Yeah, sorry. Just... thinking."
"Dangerous pastime for you," he quips, but his expression softens slightly. "Look, whatever's going on between you two, maybe try talking to her like a normal human being instead ofgrowling at her every time she opens her mouth. Novel concept, I know."
I roll my eyes, but there's truth in his words that I can't quite dismiss. "Let's just finish this fence."
We work in silence for a while, but my mind is far from quiet. It keeps circling back to Hailey, to the look on her face when Sawyer mentioned the bar, to the small object she clutches when distressed, to the walls I've been determined to maintain between us since the moment she arrived.
Walls that might be keeping out exactly what I need most.
Bandit returns, dropping his stick at my feet once more. This time, I pause in my work, pick it up and toss it across the pasture. He takes off after it, a blur of black and white against the green grass, uncomplicated joy in every movement.
I do that a few more times before turning my attention back to the task at hand. But as the hours tick by, I can’t get Hailey out of my mind. And when I pound the last staple into the fence, my shoulders ache from hours of the repetitive motion. But the physical pain is a welcome distraction from the mental turmoil that's been my constant companion since this morning. Sawyer's already loading tools into his truck, whistling some country tune that's been overplayed on every station for the past month. The western sky has darkened further, those rain clouds he mentioned earlier now rolling in faster than expected, mirroring the storm still brewing inside my chest.
"You heading back now?" Sawyer calls, slamming the tailgate shut.
"Yeah." I peel off my work gloves, flexing fingers stiff from gripping tools all day. A thin line of blood trickles down my forearm where I caught it on a wire. I hadn't even noticed until now. "You go on ahead. I want to check the north pasture gate before the rain hits."
It's a lie, but Sawyer just nods, accepting it without question. That's the thing about ranch work, there's always something that needs checking, fixing, or maintaining. Always a reasonable excuse to be alone.
"Suit yourself." He climbs into his truck, then leans out the window. "Hey, offer still stands for tonight. You should come. Might do you good to blow off some steam."
I nod noncommittally, watching as he pulls away. Bandit circles my legs once before trotting after the truck, deciding Sawyer's company offers better prospects than mine right now.
