After twenty minutes, we figure Landon and Wesley aren’t coming back in. Emmett shoves his phone in his pocket and throws down a tip for Brantley.
“Wes texted. Landon is driving them back to the ranch.” He exhales and glances at Lydia. “He said he’s sorry. For shoving you. And for everything else.”
“Whatever.” Lydia shrugs, brushing it off. But I catch the flicker of hurt in her eyes.
ThingswithLanearegood.Really good.
It’s been a little over a week since that night at Lucky’s and somehow, even in the chaos of peak season, we still manage to carve out time for each other.
Every cabin’s booked straight through September, guest activities stacked one after another. It should feel overwhelming, but the routine is actually comforting.
Heath gave the okay for me to help out on more of the trail rides, as long as the guys didn’t mind. I love it—being out there with the horses, the quiet stretch of the trails, the rhythm of it all.
Lane asks me to come with him on nearly every ride he leads. We work well together. It’s fun. It’s even more fun sneaking stolen kisses when no one’s looking.
Wesley never asks. He hardly even looks at me anymore. He’s been avoiding me completely, doing everything in his power to make sure our paths don’t cross.
Emmett has let me tag along a few times too, but only with smaller groups. He jokes that Heath would have a coronary if I got lost out there, but I remind him I’m an adult and he’s being dramatic.
My birthday’s in two days. Not that anyone here knows. I don’t want them to. It’s just another day. There’s nothing special about turning nineteen. It’s a weird limbo age. I can’t legally buy cigarettes—not that I’d want to if I could. Can’t rent a car. Can’t even book a hotel room in some places. So yeah, nothing special.
It’s been an easy morning. Iris hasn’t left my side, trotting behind me from stall to stall like a little shadow, tail wagging incessantly. She’s already chewed through two pairs of gloves, but she’s too cute to stay mad at. I’ll have to tell Emmett to add more to the list, since Wesley and I are playing thewho can ignore the other hardergame.
I’m halfway through sweeping when Iris lets out a sharp bark that startles me enough to drop the broom. I look up just in time to see her chasing Ozzy, one of the barn cats, paws skidding across the ground.
She is a menace, but I’ve become completely attached to her.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Lane leaning against a support beam, thermos in hand and that signature grin tugging at his mouth.
“She’s quite the little hell-raiser,” he drawls, holding the thermos out to me. “I added that vanilla creamer you like.”
I press up onto my tiptoes and kiss him, before taking it. My fingers brush his, lingering longer than they should. “My hero.”
He chuckles, tugging me closer for another kiss—deeper this time. The kind that makes my knees go weak. I part my lips, his tongue traces against mine, and everything else begins to fade at the edges.
“Hey, Sadie, do you know where a stupid green bucket is? Wes said it was in the st—oh shit.”
Emmett freezes in the breezeway, eyes wide and bouncing between us.
Oh shit, indeed.
I step back from Lane, heat rushing up my neck. But it’s too late.
The damage is done.
Iknewwe needed to stop procrastinating and be honest with Heath, but first we needed to talk about what this is between us.
Lane said everyone probably already suspected something, but suspecting and knowing are two very different things.
Now it’s confirmed. I’ve been lying and sneaking around and breaking the rules. They’re going to think the absolute worst of me.
Emmett’s gaze flicks between us. “You know what? I didn’t see anything,” he says evenly. “I came in looking for a bucket. It wasn’t here. Then I left.”
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur.
He feigns confusion. “What are you sorry for?”
A reluctant smile tugs at my mouth. “Sorry you didn’t find that green bucket.”
