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A brief thought over whether her uncle was worried about her crossed her mind, but she shoved it as far down as she could. He’d been the one to take her phone. If he wanted to be able to reach her, he should have thought about that beforehand.
Just when Harley was losing hope that she’d maintained a straight line on the trail—there was a particularly annoying rock she could have sworn she tripped on at least three times—she finally caught sight of a house. Or was it a barn?
It didn’t matter. She’d found proof of civilization. It might have taken her a couple hours, but she’d made it, and she was going to march right up to that door and demand to speak to the guy.
Harley picked up her pace, nearly running by the time she made it to the edge of the yard. Well, it couldn’t really be called a yard when the vast majority of it was just trimmed weeds. The house looked nice, though. It had been recently painted, and even Harley could tell they’d put a new roof on it.
It was probably about as big as her uncle’s place, which meant there were likely a few others who lived there.
She slowed her steps. If there were a couple cowboys who lived here, then how was she going to ask for the one who had met with her uncle? She didn’t have a name. Even his appearance was common.
Since her arrival in Copper Creek, almost every cowboy she’d seen had brown hair and brown eyes. That cowboy was no exception.
Male voices caught her attention a few yards away and Harley ducked down, darting toward the side of the house so she could hide.
“… it’s not like that. I only told him that we have hands to spare. I didn’t tell him to contact you specifically.”
“Really? Because it’s almost like he planned on being at that bookstore when I was.”
The second voice was more familiar than the first, but at this point, Harley couldn’t tell if it was the cowboy she was looking for. Either way, they both sounded on edge and she wasn’t about to get in the middle of it. The voices grew louder, but the men stayed out of her line of vision.
“I don’t understand why you’re so upset. It’s not like I sold you into indentured servitude. Have you considered that it might be good for you?”
“Yeah? How’s that? I already know everything there is to—”
The first voice laughed.
“What?”
“You’re never going to know everything. I don’t care how many books you read. The world is always changing. Variables are always fluctuating. People, animals, food supply…” He paused. “Weather. If you think that Mr. Abrams doesn’t have anything to teach you, then you’re probably the wrong fit anyway.”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m the wrong or right fit. I’m not going back there.”
That was him. That was the voice of the cowboy from the barn. Harley took a step forward from her crouched position to get a better look and her boot cut down hard on a twig. The sound of the snap echoed in her ear as loud as if it had been a gunshot. Her breath caught in her throat, and she shut her eyes tight. There wasn’t even a tiny chance that they didn’t hear her. And now, they were likely headed in her direction.
She heard their boots before she saw them. When she lifted her gaze, she found two cowboys. One was taller than the other, definitely older—though not old enough to be the younger one’s father. His hair peeked out from beneath his hat, dark blond.
The cowboy she’d met earlier stood beside him, shock and fury emanating from his eyes. “What are you doing here?” he seethed.
Slowly, she rose. Well, she’d been made. She might as well do what she came here for.
Harley crossed her arms and scowled at him. “You owe me an explanation.”
5
Mason
“I don’t owe you squat,” Mason snapped back.
“Mason—” Wade started, but he cut him off.
“You can shut up.”
“Mason,” he said with barely veiled exasperation. “That isn’t any way to treat a guest.”
“She’s no guest. She’s a trespasser.”
Harley straightened slightly. He could see it in her eyes—the irritation and temptation to correct him again about who owned what land. Well, she was outnumbered, and he wasn’t going to let her get a word in edgewise.
