Page 46 of Wrangling Hearts
“I was here first,” I grumbled, grabbing another rock and tossing it. It sank again. “Goddamnit, how fuckin’ hard is it to skip a damn rock?”
Weston shifted on his feet, giving me a pointed glare. “What the hell’s wrong with you? This can’t be just about that horse deal.”
I contemplated not telling him. Weston wasn’t the person to have deep conversations with; that was Anna or even Colt, but never Weston. He kept things light, funny, and superficial—the guy you went to to get your mind off things and have a good time. But I was getting desperate at this point.
“It’s about Claire.” I picked up another rock.
His head reared back, face scrunched with confusion. “Claire Hayes?”
My hand dropped, and I turned towards him. “Where the hell have you been? Do you not read theWhispers?”
“You know I don’t pay attention to that shit. I use it to start my fire.”
I blinked. “It’s June. It’s too hot for a fire.”
He shot me a sly grin. “Exactly.”
“I danced with her at the fundraiser two weeks ago.”
“Yeah, I watched you fumble that pretty hard. Don’t need the play-by-play.” He chuckled. “Next time, just ask me for some pointers, man. It’s okay to be scared of women, we’ve all been there…when we were thirteen,” he added with a snicker.
“Fuck off. I did notfumbleher.” I shifted on my feet and cleared my throat. “That time at least. But anyway, that dance kinda…started somethin’…between us.” Downplaying it like that felt like a crime. A weak explanation for what seemed like the most important thing in my life right now.
“Oh?”
I sighed. “Yes, Weston,oh.”
“And?”
“It’s just a huge mess with us competing for this partnership, and her mom on hospice. She wants to take a step back. Needs it. I get it, and don’t want to push her, but…”
But I fuckingmissedher. We hadn’t even spent that much time alone together without Golden Bridle or Charlotte or Cavendish to focus on, but every second with her was better than the last. And it shocked me how much it hurt when she ran off after what we shared in the barn. It scared me, if I was being honest with myself.
“That sucks,” Weston said.
“Really? That’s all you got?”
He cast his fishing line again. “Yup. I don’t do relationship shit, you know that. I love you, you’re like a brother to me, but you want a heart-to-heart? Go to your sister.”
It was about what I expected from him. “Claire said Savannah is coming home soon to see Charlotte. Should be any day now.”
Weston’s entire body went rigid. He looked down at the fishing rod, fidgeting with it in his hand. “That’s nice.” His voice was clipped, forced. He clearly thought it was anything but nice.
“You gonna fess up about that, or am I gonna have to ask?”
“Don’t ask.” His voice was gruff. Tense.
I grinned. “It seems a lot like?—”
His eyes met mine, that blue dark like an angry sea. “Donotask me about her, Beaumont,” he ordered. Not asked, but ordered. It was the most serious I’d ever seen him in all the years I’d known him, outside of sitting in the chute on an angry bull.
I held up my hands in surrender. “Shit, sorry.”
The muscles in his jaw ticked. “It’s fine. Just something I don’t like to think about.”
My phone rang and my heart slammed to a halt. The sudden pang of disappointment that it wasn’t Claire was replaced with the anxiety-ridden nausea that came when I saw it was someone from Cavendish.
“Oh fuck,” I choked out. “It’s them.”
