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Emma squinted her eyes. “Ryder Prescott? That name sounds so familiar.”
“You probably remember me talking about him.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s more recent than that.” Emma thought for a second. “Holy crap!” She jumped off the desk. “A Ryder Prescott from Georgia booked one of our cabins at the Ranch for the entire summer. It caught my attention yesterday when I was going through our reservation site because of the length of his stay.”
I reached for my heart, the one Ryder broke. “Please tell me this is one of your practical jokes.”
I was living at Carrington Ranch in the main house until I could secure a place in town. It was part of the deal when I bought the store since my parents had cut me off for leaving the family business. Real estate was expensive in Carrington Cove, so I was waiting until after the busy summer months to move into my own place. How could I avoid him if we were both there? And why out of all the places in the world had he chosen the Ranch? It was forty-five minutes away from Edenvale where his office would be.
“I’m sorry, Shelby,” Emma interrupted my thoughts.
Not as sorry as I was. I fanned my face. “It’s fine. It’s all fine.” I stood tall and proud while lying. My heart raced faster than the Talladega Superspeedway.
Emma tilted her head. “It’s not fine. Maybe I can find some legitimate excuse to cancel the reservation.”
I shook my head. “Goodness no, don’t do that. You and your daddy have a business to run. I’m sure,” I cleared my throat, “Ryder’s money is as good as anyone else’s.” Though I had to wonder how he’d come into all this money. An entire summer at Carrington Ranch would be well into the thousands of dollars.
Emma bit her lip and approached me in paint coated cutoffs and one of Sawyer’s old T-shirts. I wished I were more like her, comfortable in anything—including her own skin. I loved how she was able to throw her hair up in a ponytail and not wear any makeup. She was naturally beautiful, whether she thought so or not, her confidence and personality made her more so.
I was taught growing up to never leave the house unless you were looking your best, not even to go grocery shopping. I knew that was a turnoff to some people. But it’s not like I had to do a lot of those type of domestic things growing up or for most of my adult life. That’s what delivery services and the help were for, Momma would say. As silly as it sounded, I liked strolling through each aisle of the store. It reminded me of . . . well, different times. A time when I wanted nothing more than to be blissfully domestic and even clip coupons if I had to. What an evil thought for a Duchane.
Emma got close, but not too close as she was covered in wet paint. “Shelby, we don’t need the money and we always have a waiting list.”
“I appreciate your offer, but Ryder Prescott means nothing to me. If I saw him today, I would . . .” My breath got caught in my chest. What would I do? Slap him? Ignore him? I knew one thing that would not happen. I would not let his dark chocolate eyes capture mine and melt into my soul. My breath came out in a rush thinking about that first moment four years ago when our eyes had locked. “Excuse me.” I turned on my heels.
“Shelby,” Emma called. “Let’s go grab lunch. My treat.”
I waved from behind; my whole body was shaking. “Thank you, but I have to go.” I opened the door and ran into the bright sun. I soaked in the rays of warmth, letting that feeling settle my heart. I silently berated myself for allowing him to affect me after all this time while I took a seat on the nearby bench under the gaslit lamppost.
Ever my momma’s daughter, I crossed my legs and smoothed out my pencil skirt. I could hear Momma now, chiding me to keep my shoulders back and head held high. For once I didn’t listen to her as I sank against the wrought iron. That was a lie—it wasn’t the first time. There was a time, a beautiful time, almost like a dream, now, where I didn’t worry about the expectations of my family. It was the first time in my life that I could be me, with him, curled up in his arms, nestled under a blanket of stars out in the hay field on his momma’s and daddy’s dairy farm. It was not befitting of a lady, or a Duchane, Momma would have said. But I thought it fit me perfectly. How wrong I had been.
