Page 43 of Wild Sanctuary

“Oh! I almost forgot. I need a favor.”

“Hmm?” I pull my gaze from the window, where the mountains are darkening against the sky.

“You know we’re doing the bachelor and bachelorette auction, right? Highest bidder wins a date—dinner at the Blackstone Inn, very tasteful, totally⁠—”

“June, I don’t think⁠—”

“—harmless. All the money goes straight to the Hendersons.” She barrels on like I haven’t spoken. “Well, Sadie Perkins was supposed to be one of our bachelorettes, but she came down with mono. Mono, Daisy. At thirty-four. Don’t ask.” She waves a hand. “Anyway, I’m short one girl, and you’re single⁠—”

“The friend thing is messy enough already, remember?”

Wyatt clears his throat as June’s lips twitch with the hint of a grin. “Navy blue never needs to know. Besides, it’s one dinner, and you’d be helping a family who just lost everything.”

“June—”

“Please? I’m desperate.” She grabs my arm, those green eyes going full puppy dog. “I’ll owe you forever. Blank check. No expiry…”

“You know that’s how people end up burying bodies, right?”

June doesn’t even blink. “I’d bring snacks.”

The truck slows slightly as we round a curve. My eyes drift to Wyatt before I can stop them. His jaw is tight. I’m starting to think that’s just what his face does around me.

I look out at the valley—all that land stretching toward the mountains—and think about the Hendersons. Three generations of building something, and one bad year is all it takes for someone like Silas Blackwood to come knocking with a check and a smile.

“Fine,” I hear myself say before I can talk myself out of it. “But you owe me.”

June claps her hands delightedly. “You’re an angel. A literal angel.”

I turn back to the window and wonder what the hell I just agreed to.

The valley blurs past—fence posts and cattle and the occasional farmhouse tucked into the hills. June chatters on about auction logistics and who’s donated what. Whether they should serve wine or stick to beer.

“—and Shelby’s been texting me nonstop with ideas. She’s so thoughtful. Everyone loves her.”

I make a noise of agreement, but my mind snags on the image of Shelby leaning into Wyatt’s window. That easy laugh. The way he actually smiled back at her—a real smile, not the barely there twitch I’ve been working so hard to earn.

And why do I care anyway?

Shelby can smile at whoever she wants.

Wyatt can smile back.

It’s none of my business. I’m here to write an article, not audit his stupid facial expressions.

The truck slows, and I realize we’re pulling up to the ranch house. The sun is hanging low and golden over the mountains when Wyatt kills the engine.

I push my door open and climb out, holding it so June can slide across. She gathers her shopping bags, already halfway into her next thought.

“I need to get the steaks in the buttermilk if we’re eating at a reasonable hour.” She pivots on her heel, her eyes finding mine across the yard. “Daisy, you’re coming to dinner, right? I’m doing my chicken-fried steak.”

“Sure.”

“Perfect!” She’s already heading for the porch. “See you at seven!”

The screen door bangs shut behind her.

I should follow her. Head to the cabin. Let whatever this is stay buried.