Page 53 of Cabins Cows Critics
“Darn right I do.”
Chapter twenty-one
Connor
TICK, TICK, BOOM
“Areweallsetfor tonight?” Dean asks at dinner.
“The heaters are on, and Skye is keeping watch to make sure no wayward llama or goats decide to knock one over and set the whole ranch on fire,” Atlas replies.
“Good. I can take over when we’re done here,” Nial offers. “Seeing as Connor has his date to prepare for.”
How the hell does he know about that already?
“What date?” Atlas and Dean both ask.
Nial answers before I can say anything.
“He’s going to the movies with the guy from cabin twelve.”
“Dean and I fell in love at the movies,” Preston says, picking up Dean’s hand and kissing the back of it. His daughter, Poppy, scrunches up her face and mouths, “gross” before biting down on her corn cob.
“How do you know I have a date?” I ask, and he taps his nose.
“Got a sick sense for these things.”
Atlas laughs.
“It’s sixth sense.” He chuckles, and Nial looks genuinely confused.
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure, yeah.”
“I’m looking it up. I’m sure it’s a sick sense, like you get this churn in your belly like you’re going to be sick, and you just know stuff,” Nial goes on to try to explain his reasoning, but then his confident smile falls.
“Okay, so it’s sixth, but mine makes more sense.”
My phone chimes. It’s the alert I set to go off whenever there’s a mention of the search for the missing millionaire. I cough a couple of times and get up from the table.
“I’ll just be a sec,” I say through a forced, strained voice.
“Everything okay?” Sally-May asks.
“Yeah, just grabbing some water,” I lie and head into the kitchen.
The second I have my phone open, my heart sinks. It’s another story about the search for me, alright, only this time, instead of a photo of me partying in some club, it’s a photo taken of me and my grandfather when visiting one of the beef ranches he took over. I remember that day. It was before I knew about his plans to have me marry, when I was still naïve enough to think I had some control over my own life. I wanted to impress him so badly, prove that I was ready to take on the company. He spent the whole flight telling me how important it was that the farmers believed we wanted to help them, that we would keep their farms running the way they ran them with the people they had doing the work. Truth was, the second the papers were all filed, he’d send one of his teams out to evaluate the staff, and they almost always ended up laying off every fucking one of the original workers. He had them all believing he didn’t have a choice, too. And there I am in this fucking photo standing besidehim as he shakes the hand of another poor farmer swindled out of his heritage for pennies on the dollar. I might be a good fifteen years younger than I am now in this image, but I’m wearing jeans, a flannel, and a cowboy hat, and there is no fucking way I won’t be recognized if anyone from around here sees it.
My heart is beating so loud that I’m sure any second someone will be coming out here to see what’s making the racket. Atlas laughs in the other room, and my neck muscles tense. This is what I was dreading. I peek through the doorway at them all, laughing and talking about their day, and a lump rises in the back of my throat that I can’t swallow down. They’re good people, the best, but they’d never forgive me for lying to them this whole time. I can’t bear to see it all blow up.
Slowly walking backwards, my gaze lingers on them for as long as I can, memorizing the way they smile and laugh, and then I slip out the kitchen door and creep around the side of the house and up the driveway.
I have to get out of here now.
My truck is parked up by the guest cars just off the property. I started leaving it up here a few days ago. About the same time, I packed a go bag and stashed it under the passenger seat. Not that I have much to take with me. Maybe I always knew I’d be running again.
Cracking open the door, I’m thankful the internal light is busted and doesn’t give me away. I take one final look at the place that was almost home, where for at least a little while, I felt like I belonged, and then I shove the truck into gear and push it fifty meters down the road before I climb in and kick the ignition on.
