Page 41 of The Hometown Heartbreaker

Damon’s words hit me harder than I wanted to admit. The third Lockhart in the lineup didn’t get serious that often, but when he did, I paid attention. The truth was, I’d told Sadie how I felt right before we jumped back into bed, and I was scared that was a mistake. I worried I’d rushed things with her. But if I let myself think about it, obsess over it, I’d come undone in ways I couldn’t afford. Not with the whole damn town watching me like I was a prize bull about to get gelded.

I grabbed the wheelbarrow again and was about to tell my brother to kindly fuck off, when I heard the crunch of tires on gravel outside the barn. Damon’s head shot up, and not for the first time this morning, he looked utterly amused.

“Well, would you looky there.” He nodded toward the entrance to the stable. “Somebody’s got a visitor.”

When I glanced over my shoulder, a gleam of silver caught the corner of my eye as a low-slung Porsche Cayenne rolled to a stop beside the barn. The engine purred for a second, then shut off, and the silence that followed was so complete I could hear the horses chewing. I knew exactly who was behind the wheel.

“Oh, shit,” Damon whispered, then slapped me on the back so hard I nearly lost my footing. “Good luck, lover boy.”

He was already halfway out of the stables, flipping his baseball cap around and whistling like he hadn’t just spent ten minutes roasting me over an open fire before I even set down the wheelbarrow.

I wiped my hands and squared my shoulders as the driver’s door opened, and a pair of bare, toned legs swung out first, followed by the rest of Dr. Angela Chang in matching yoga biker shorts and sports bra with a Prada windbreaker that probably cost more than my first truck. She wore oversized sunglasses that hid half her face, but her mouth was set in a line that meant business.

She walked toward me with the determined stride of someone who’d never been told no in her life, holding a tray of what looked suspiciously like artisanal coffee in one hand and a bakery bag with a Cupid’s Cup logo in the other. The sun caught the highlights of auburn in her brunette hair as she crossed the barnyard, her Jimmy Choo tennis shoes leaving perfect little half-moons in the dew.

“Morning, Dawson,” she called, her voice bright and echoing off the corrugated metal walls.

“Morning,” I replied, trying to sound normal. My brain was still stuck on the sight of her, unexpected, so early, and bringing snacks, which was not part of our usual routine.

The first time she’d been to the ranch was the wedding. She’d never once stopped by unannounced. And she’d never, in all the time we’d seen each other, brought me any sort of gift, food, or otherwise.

She smiled, cool and professional. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

I glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see my mom and half the staff following behind her, but thankfully it was just Angie. Damon, blessedly, had made himself scarce. The horses watched her approach with the same wary fascination they reserved for thunderstorms and unfamiliar dogs.

“Nope. Just chores,” I replied.

She glanced at the hay in my hair and the dirt on my hands. “You always this hands-on?”

I shrugged, not sure what she was getting at. “’Fraid so.”

She held out the tray. “I brought coffee. And bagels. And some donuts, in case you haven’t eaten.” She hesitated, just enough for me to notice. “You haven’t eaten, have you?”

I shook my head, accepting the coffee. The cup was still warm, and I took a long sip before answering. “Thanks.”

She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, scanning the barn behind me like she was searching for someone. “I, um—” She stopped, recalibrated, and flashed the customer-service smile that usually meant she was about to deliver bad news. “I tried texting you last night. You didn’t answer.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the directness. “I was… busy.”

“With your phone off?”

I didn’t have an answer for that, and she didn’t wait for one.

“Well, anyway,” she said, smoothing her windbreaker. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” She shot me a look I couldn’t read. “It’s not like you to just go dark.”

I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my phone. I’d been so distracted by the text from Gio I woke up to, I hadn’t paid attention to any other notifications. The screen was spattered with hay dust, battered like it had survived a tour in Afghanistan, and it took a few tries before my thumbprint even registered. Right at the top of my notifications, there it was: a text from Angie, timestamped at 1:13 a.m.

Angie

Just checking in. Let me know when you get home.

My stomach sank a little. I hadn’t seen the text because I’d been with Sadie. We weren’t exclusive, but I could already feel the guilt rising even before I looked up to meet her eyes.

She caught the shift in my face instantly. “Did you see my message?” she asked. Her voice was even, but I could tell she already knew the answer.

I swallowed. “I didn’t,” I admitted, holding up the phone as if the missed call log might serve as evidence. “I’m sorry.”

Something in her jaw unclenched, and for a second, her whole posture softened. I could almost see her wanting to excuse the behavior, but that wasn’t fair to either of us, and I knew it.