River laughs quietly. ‘Yeah. I’d love to see it though. A ghost in athleisure.’
‘Yeah, or a spooky hipster.’
‘Haunted by the e-girl.’
We giggle into the quiet night.
‘Reading anything good?’ I nod at my book.
‘Actually, yes. You got Cassidy spot on,’ River says with a surprised grin. ‘It’s strange. So many of the details you write in here are exactly like the Bedlam Creek I know and love. But some are hazy, and plenty only halfway close to what Bedlam and its people are really like. But Cassidy is … it’s justher. The wayward heart, the passion, the annoying absolute refusal to bend.’
I’m surprised by how tenderly he talks about his sister, when in my stories, he does everything he can to prevent her from succeeding.
‘Hazy?’ I ask, perching down on the edge of the chaise longue and shivering a little as a gust of chilly air floats by, lifting the pages of the book into a flutter. ‘What did I get wrong?’
River hands me his robe from where it rests on the balcony railings. I wrap it over my shoulders. ‘Well, the localbar in Bedlam isn’t called the Tiddly Tap. It’s called the Tipsy Tap.’
‘TheTipsyTap?!’
‘And you give Ethan Calhoun way too much credit. He is not that interesting or that handsome. He does genuinely adore Cassidy though.’
‘They belong together,’ I murmur, a burst of longing in my chest at how much I miss having them constantly chattering away in my head. How much I miss closing my eyes, sprinkling my fingertips over the laptop keys and willing these wonderful characters onto the page.
‘Well, it’s clear that whatever connection you have with Bedlam comes from Cassidy. The voice here, it sounds just like her voice. The details of her cottage, her love of horses and her best friend Sofia. They’re bang on the money.’
‘The details about you? Are they hazy too? Because all I ever saw was a villainous half-brother called River who wouldn’t let Cassidy work on the family ranch because he was determined to control everyone and everything around him at any cost.’
River frowns and scratches his jaw. ‘Look, before he died, my dad made me promise to keep Cassidy out of the business. He said, “Cassidy Oakley is destined for greater things than small-town ranching, not like me and you, son.” He was so proud when Cassidy started her PhD studies. And the truth is … I’ve felt obligated my whole life to follow in the footsteps of my father. It didn’t matter whatImight have wanted to do with my life. I was an Oakley man and Oakley men ranched. And even if I did hold a grudge againstCassidy for being the product of my father’s affair … I didn’t want her to feel that same obligation as me. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.’
My eyes go round. It was Chip Oakley’s idea to keep Cassidy out of the ranch? Not River’s? How did I not know this? I peer at River, my perspective on him shifting a little. ‘Does Cassidy know about the promise you made to your dad? Have you told her? In those exact words?’
River lifts his shoulders. ‘She wouldn’t believe me. She hates me. Which is fair enough. I did once put live worms in her boots.’
‘So that part was true.’
‘Afraid so.’ He leans back against the chaise longue, biting the corner of his lower lip again and again. The pair of us stare out over the rolling hills, a fresh peach sun starting to rise in the distance. ‘Anyhow, we should probably get some sleep. Dawn is breaking.’
I cover my yawn and stand up. ‘You’re right. Goodnight, River.’ I start to head towards the room and then, for some reason I will never quite work out, I say the most embarrassing thing I have ever said in my life. More mortifying than the time I called my English professor Dad. Even more cringe-worthy than the time I tried to sayabsolutely fineandno problemand somehow saidabsolutely problem!Worse, even, than when I voice-noted Henry to tell him I’d had a Brazilian wax and accidentally sent it to my gynaecologist Dr Amy Henry who I know listened to it because the ticks went blue. She did not reply.
More embarrassing thanallof them.
‘River, am I sexy?’
I immediately clamp my hand over my mouth, the pure shame at having said that out loud setting my skin on fire. Am I sexy?Am I sexy?
Oh myGod.
River turns to me slowly. ‘Sorry, what did you just say?’
‘Nothing!’ I sputter, grateful that I said it in a quiet voice and he didn’t seem to catch it. What the hell is wrong with me? Who asks people that, besides Rod Stewart?
I immediately race back into the hotel room and climb back into the bed, my face flaming.
A few seconds later I hear the doors slide back open. River strides decidedly over to the bed and sits down on the edge of it.
‘I would say that yes, Gertie. You are sexy.’
Oh no. Oh God. Hedidhear me.
