Page 33 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

It was an all-out melee for which adult team could collect the most eggs. They were filled with money, raffle tickets, rental vouchers for Swift Property Management vacations, and of course, candy.

I didn’t pay attention to who won what, but it was the most fun I’ve ever had.

Today’s crisp spring wind sends a chill through me, despite the sun shining from the cloudless sky. A shiver races down my arms and goosebumps follow in its wake. Crossing my arms to brace from the breeze, a familiar tingle raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

I feel Connor before I hear or see him. The next thing I know, he’s swooped me into the air like a bride and spins me around.

“You scared me!” I laugh. But it stops being funny when he nuzzles warmth into my neck, and I swear he smells my hair.

“Sorry I’m late, dollface. I got held up at my parents helping Quincy.”

“It’s okay.” I try to hide the way my body reacts to his touch. I wiggle so he’ll set me down, and we walk side by side back towards the barn.

He’s so handsome it should be illegal. Wranglers that hug his ass just right hang casually over his favorite cowboy boots.

Tucked into those sinful jeans is a white pearl snap collared shirt that stretches across his chest and arms, thin enough to tease the outline of the tattoos underneath. Thank god he’s not wearing a cowboy hat. I’d combust on the spot and the night would be over before it begins.

The party’s in full swing. The music’s loud, but happy conversation floats all around. There’s a ton of people here I recognize but don’t personally know. The Andersens have a vast circle of friends, and it’s unreal they’re here to celebrate a nobody like me for finishing my second to last college semester.

Connor stepped away to refill our drinks, but I thought he’d be back by now. I circle the crowd, peeking between bodies to find him. Pain freezes me in place when I spot him.

A stunning woman with sleek black hair and an olive complexion is hanging off my best friend. She’s got him pressed against the bar and is running her fingers through the long hair that’s fallen across his forehead.

My heart fights to launch up my throat or plummet into my stomach. Instinctually, my arms wrap around me, weak protection from the intense pain and threat this woman is posing.

“It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to” plays in my swirling mind. Even my own brain is mocking my ridiculous unrequited love for Connor. I can’t bear to see what happens next, so I disappear back into the fray to find my sister or Livy for a distraction.

I’m rounding the dance floor when a large, warm hand bracelets my wrist. I whirl around, so glad Connor came for me—but the hand doesn’t belong to Connor. I tug my arm back firmly.

“Excuse me, do I know you?” I ask the stranger. He’s quite taller than me, chestnut brown hair flips at his collar beneath a cream cowboy hat. The perfect amount of stubble covers his face, fair but not pale like me. Vibrant blue eyes gaze down at me, and a wicked grin crooks one side of his mouth. I don’t have the courage to look below his neck.

“Jason Beck. Pleasure to meet you.” He offers his hand for a shake. I take it briefly but pull away from him. “You’re the guest of honor, right? Delilah?”

“Um, yes. This is my sister and her fiancé’s ranch.” That was a dumb thing to say.

“Yea, I grew up with the Andersens. I graduated between James and Reid.” His words are perfectly polite, but the way his eyes are leering at me is not. I fidget beneath his scrutiny.

I’m not used to having a man’s attention on me. At least, not a man who’s interested in me. And Jason definitely seems interested.

When I don’t respond, he continues. “Heard you’re aiming to specialize in equine therapy. Is that something you’ll be doing here?”

“I haven’t given much thought to where I’ll work after graduation. I’m just trying to get through my internship, you know?” He laughs boisterously, though what I said wasn’t funny.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asks. I don’t want to see Connor with his plaything, so I ask Jason for a lemonade.

I find a high-top table and wait for him to return with our drinks. He’s decent looking. Objectively speaking, he’s attractive. But my standard of male beauty is Connor—and Jason doesn’t hold a candle to him.

Jason swaggers back, a devilish gleam in his eyes and my stomach drops uncomfortably.

One of his hands offers my drink while the other casually slips too low on my back. I resist squirming beneath his touch when his fingers dig into my hip.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” The tart lemonade zaps the tip of my tongue but is snatched from my hand.

“Get your fucking hands off her,” Connor growls.

“Back off man,” Jason quips calmly, cocky as can be. But Connor doesn’t take no for an answer, especially when it comes to me.

This time, Connor’s demand is accompanied by a shove. “I said get your disgusting hands off her.”