Page 13 of Huckleberry Hill
“A week?” Muddy repeated. “A week ago, and you didn’t tell us?”
“I wasn’t ready to share the news,” I mumbled. “After a few days of wallowing, Salem thought it would be good for me to come home for a while. Wyn and Poet agreed.”
Dad still hadn’t said anything. I looked at him and waited.
He set his coffee mug down and shoved back from the table. Without a word, he strode from the house, the front door slamming shut.
“What was that about?” I asked Muddy.
“Pretty sure your father is about to have some words with the new wrangler.”
“About what?”
“About you.” Muddy grinned.
“What about me?”
“Not to go near you. Especially now that you’re newly single and ripe for the picking.”
“Ripe? I’m not ripe. I’m heartbroken.”
“Are you?” Muddy murmured.
I glared at her. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Get all witchy on me.”
Muddy laughed as she picked up her coffee cup. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how Declan was looking at you. Or how you were looking at him.”
“You couldn’t have noticed. You were cooking.”
“Wasn’t looking with my eyes, honey. I heard the two of you. Sparks, m’dear. You two have sparks.”
I kept silent.
“I like Declan,” Muddy continued.
“Hmm.”
“I can see his appeal. Handsome devil.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” I lied.
“Dark hair, too. Tall. Chin dimple. Your type right?”
“Muddy.”
Muddy sniggered, but then she sobered. “It’s none of my business how you get over your breakup. But I will give you a piece of unsolicited advice—if you want Declan to keep his job, you’ll steer clear of him.”
“I have no intention of going near him.”
Muddy looked at me, steady. Her hazel eyes burned gold with intensity. “Why are you really home?”
“To get over my breakup.”
She picked up her fork. “You never were a good liar, Hadley. And living in New York hasn’t changed that.”
