WESLEY
Istartedmymorningchores earlier than usual, hoping to dodge running into Sadie.
Last night in the kitchen was an egregious lapse in judgment—one I have zero intentions of repeating.
What was I thinking?
I should’ve walked away. Kept my distance and let her be Emmett’s lost puppy.
But I can’t stop thinking about the cut on her lip.
I didn’t notice it until the day she stomped downstairs demanding we fix the hot water.
Small, but clean. Like someone had hit her.
I tried to ignore it. I really did. But every time I saw her, my eyes dropped to her mouth, unable to look away.
The way she brushed it off—pulled away from me, lying that it was nothing—confirmed my suspicions.
Whatever happened, it wasn’t nothing.
Dad didn’t give any explanation to her being here—only a half-assed mention she’d be coming to work for the summer, and she was mine and Emmett’s responsibility. I know my dad’s always had a soft spot for strays, but he could’ve at least given us a warning.
Maybe that’s what she is. Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell us—because he knew I’d ask questions he didn’t want to answer.
This is the last thing I need: another distraction. A spoiled, out-of-touch rich girl here to play dress-up in cowboy boots until she eventually gets bored and goes home.
I shouldn’t care. She’s not my problem. But there’s something about her I can’t seem to ignore. A pretty girl showing up out of nowhere with a busted lip and an infuriating attitude.
She’s trouble, plain and simple.
And I can’t decide if this is a test—or if I’m just a fucking idiot who’s drawn to fire.
I bring the horses in from the pasture and lay out their breakfast before pulling the group we’ll be working with today.
I’m finishing up my last groom when Emmett’s voice cuts through the still morning.
“Hey! Wait up!” he calls, jogging my way.
Behind him, a blur of blonde hair catches the edge of my vision. I glance over—then look again.
The morning light catches on the small cut on her lip, and the anger from last night flares in my chest before I force it back down where it belongs.
She’s trailing a few paces behind, yawning as she stretches her arms high above her head. There’s a soft sound, half-groan, half-sigh, that hits somewhere low in my gut.
Her tank top rides up under her unzipped jacket, revealing a flash of bare skin right above her jeans. Her braid’s messy, like she didn’t care enough to fix it, a few loose strands clinging to her cheeks.
Her eyes catch mine—green and guarded—but there’s a trace of something softer there that holds me in her web. Then she turns back toward the pastures, leaving me wishing she hadn’t looked away.
I continue brushing my horse, pushing any inkling of a spark out of my mind.
“We’re riding the trail with you,” Emmett says, checking the tack.
He stops beside the calmest horse on the ranch—a shiny dun we usually pair with beginner riders or nervous guests.
“This is Monty.” Emmett runs a hand down the horse’s nose. “He shouldn’t give you any trouble. You know how to ride?”
Sadie nods, stepping closer. “Sort of. My mom used to take me out sometimes when I was younger.”
