Page 136 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

No fucking way.

He wasn’t talking about Fable. He couldn’t be.

Fable had a past, sure. A serious relationship, yeah—but engaged? No. She would’ve told me. Wouldn’t she?

I swallowed hard, forcing my pulse to steady, trying to talk myself down. This wasn’t my business. If this guy had some ex-fiancée running around town, it didn’t mean it was her. I should walk out, get in my truck, drive back home, and keep telling myself that.

I should.

But I didn’t.

“Where did you say you were from again?” My voice came out tight, controlled, but my jaw was locked so hard I thought I might break a damn tooth.

The guy shook his head, that smug grin curling his lips. “I didn’t.” He took another sip of his coffee, licking the drop off his lips. “I’m from Chicago.”

“I am so fucking pissed.”

Gatlin’s brows furrowed as he took me in, his gaze flicking from my clenched jaw to my bound-up arm. “What the hell’s got you all twisted up?”

I let out a harsh breath, my chest rising and falling too fast. My fingers twitched inside the cast, useless. I couldn’t even curl them into a goddamn fist, couldn’t throw a punch at the steel in front of me like I wanted to.

Instead, I lifted my boot again and slammed it into the paddock fence.

“Ow, fucker,” I grumbled.

Dalton whistled low as he walked up, wiping sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. “Jesus, man. You’re gonna break your damn foot next.”

I dragged a hand down my face, the frustration bubbling over. “I met her fiancé.”

Silence.

Both of them fucking stood there, blinking at me like I’d lost my goddamn mind.

Dalton spoke first. “Who’s fiancé?”

“Fable’s.”

Gatlin took off his hat, running a hand through his hair before jamming it back on. “You sure?”

“Guy from Chicago. Slick boots, too clean of a hat. Walks into the coffee shop like he owns the place, says she had a ‘breakdown’ and now he’s here to take her home.” I scoffed, shaking my head. “Like she’s some lost little thing he forgot to claim.”

Dalton let out a sharp breath. “That’s some fucked-up shit.”

“Yeah.” I swallowed hard. “And the worst fucking part?”

Gatlin crossed his arms. “What?”

“She never told me.” I ground my teeth together, my voice bitter. “Not once.”

Dalton sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “You talk to her since?”

I shook my head.

“And what exactly are you planning to do about it?”

I wanted to be done with her. I wanted to erase the ache in my chest, bury it beneath work, sweat, and the dirt under my boots. I told myself it should be simple, she pulled away, so I should, too. I should be able to chalk it up as another lesson in why getting attached was a bad bet.

But she still lingered.