When the second-to-last parent leaves, I peek into the hallway. It’s quiet now that the majority of the parent-teacher conferences have been wrapped up. The other teachers will hang around to wait since I had the latest meeting time.
I can’t decide if I’m happy Knox isn’t here yet or annoyed. It gives me a minute to pull myself together, but it also prolongs the anxiety.
I run to the bathroom, taking advantage of the break. Maybe I’ll have time to eat my dinner, too. That would be nice. I haven’t eaten anything since lunch, and it’s going on seven now.
Knox is a few minutes late, but that’s not unusual for him. I can only imagine how hard it is to keep track of time on his farm. He operates a successful cattle ranch along with being a sought-after tourist destination, and the amount of work that goes into running that big of an operation is insane.
My dad worked as a ranch hand when I was a kid. IfGrammy wasn’t able to watch me, he’d bring me along. I loved seeing all the cowboys riding horses and herding cattle. It was incredible to watch how easy they made it look.
I keep an eye on the door while I eat. He’s creeping toward fifteen minutes late at this point. I try to shove down the annoyance. All I want to do is go home. I don’t have it in me to verbally spar with Knox anymore. If he still shows up, I’m not sure I’ll have the patience to keep my cool or even stand up for myself. I’d hate for him to see me fall back into the old patterns I’ve tried my damndest to break.
The clock creeps toward ten after seven, and I decide to start packing my stuff. I’ll give him until seven fifteen before I leave. If he’s still not here by then, I guess I’ll email him my notes or something.
I’ve gotten everything gathered, and I’m tapping my fingers on my desk when quick footsteps clack outside my office.
I sit up, my heart pounding at the quickness of their movements.
What if it’s… No. That’s not possible.
It’s either Knox or a parent who forgot something.
Suddenly, he’s filling my doorway. Knox’s shoulders are wide enough to practically touch the frame on both sides. He’s an absolute bear of a man with dark hair and dark eyes. His jeans are covered in mud, and his button-down shirt has seen better days. His cowboy hat sits low over his eyes, and I notice the bloody bandage on his hand as he reaches up to remove his hat.
I suck in a breath, standing abruptly. “What in the world happened to you?”
CHAPTER 3
Knox
The afternoon sun beats down on my back like it’s trying to prove its superiority. I’d kill for a beer and a cold shower. Fuck, I’m dying.
I keep swinging my ax. The giant logs split apart with ease. It may be March, but snow is always a threat at this time of year. My house is heated by a wood furnace, and I’ll be damned if I let my son get cold because I was too stupid to cut enough firewood to last the night.
I’ve stripped down to just my jeans as the sweat pours off me. My hat and button-down are slung off to the side. I’ll grab ’em when I go in to get ready for Finn’s parent-teacher conference.
Fuck, just the thought has my temperature rising to dangerous levels.
Farrah Nelson.
What a crock of shit. She parades around her classroom like a little fairy princess, sprinkling her fake cheer on everyone—whether they want it or not.
I’ve seen it in her eyes. She can pretend all she wants that she’s this happy, sparkly woman, but inside, I know she’s got asoul as dark as mine. I hate fake people. Those false pretenses just lure you in until suddenly you’re left broken because you trusted the wrong person.
I’d rather everyone know I’m an asshole than pretend to be something I’m not. At least no one will be disappointed when they see my true colors. I wear them loud and proud.
The only people who have ever stuck around when they see the real me are my best friends: Holt, Grayson, and Emmett. I have no idea why. I’m not even nice to them most days, but for some reason, they keep inviting me to shit.
I’d never tell them this, but it’s nice knowing they don’t care how prickly I can be—they still want me around.
I’m stacking up the logs I’ve split when one of my ranch hands comes racing over the hill.
“Mr. Waters! One of the heifers is going early, and she’s in distress.” Brady’s wide eyes are terrified. He’s still pretty green, in his early twenties. He works on my ranch when he’s not on the rodeo circuit or using my broncs to train. He’s a good kid and could actually make something of his career.
I throw on my button-down and hat. “You got her isolated? I don’t need the rest of the herd getting involved.”
Brady nods, and we take off to the barn to saddle up my horse. He leads the way on his quarter horse while I ride Sir. My no-nonsense Arabian has been by my side for the last ten years, and I have no idea what I’d do without him. I’ve spilled more secrets to Sir than I have to my best friends.
The next few hours pass in a blur of stress and worry. Most of my heifers shouldn’t start calving for another month. The likelihood of this baby surviving is minimal, let alone without any health issues.
