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Adam had returned to Copper Creek.
He’d told Faye it was to run his family’s business—that he knew he belonged here. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized it wasn’t true. He had loved being back for the first little while. But then things inevitably turned stale.
What was wrong with him that he couldn’t be satisfied with everything he’d been given? He had a girl he cared for. He had a job and a future here. So why did he still itch to find something?
Adam tossed the wrench into a toolbox and grabbed the oil rag from his shoulder. The door to the shop slammed open, and Bridget froze there. They both did.
“You forget something?” He shoved the rag in his back pocket and stared at her expectantly.
At first, she didn’t move. Then she tossed some envelopes on a nearby bench and strode toward him. “Um… no. Do you even know what time it is? It’s six in the morning. Were you here all night?”
He glanced toward the dark windows at the top of the garage doors. They were dark much like they’d been a few hours ago when she’d left. “Nah, that can’t be right. You’re pulling my leg.”
She shook her head, concern creasing her brows. “It’s six in the morning, Adam.” Her shrewd eyes shifted toward the car he’d just finished. “That was an eight-hour solo job, at least. Don’t tell me you’re done with it?”
Adam didn’t bother answering the question. “Fine, I lost track of time. Is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me. You can’t charge extra. You know that, right?”
“I wasn’t going to do that,” he muttered as he brushed past her. “I’m just a little distracted.”
She followed him through the doors and into the main area of the shop. “Distracted about what? Maybe I could help.”
“I doubt it.” He collapsed into the office chair behind the reception desk and leaned his head back. His eyes closed, and he couldn’t deny how the exhaustion seemed to wrap around him. A curse slipped between his lips and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t going to be any good to anyone today at the rate he’d been going.
“Don’t tell me this has to do with your girlfriend.”
Adam’s eyes flew open and he stared at her. “It doesn’t.” That was a bald-faced lie, and he knew better than to try to hide things from Bridget. She was a savant with that sort of thing. The way she cocked her head and shot him a pointed look was enough for him to know she didn’t believe him. “Fine. Yeah, we sorta had a fight. But it wasn’t really a fight.” He dragged his hand down his face, heaving a sigh. “I don’t know what it was. But I don’t like it.”
“Clearly.” Sarcasm. Great. Bridget had no sympathy for him. She was probably going to tell him to get his butt out of this chair, go home, get some rest, and then deal with Faye like he should have in the first place.
Only he didn’t know exactly what that meant. Was he supposed to tell her she was wrong and go for what his heart wanted? Or was he supposed to suppress those feelings and accept that the rodeo stuff just wasn’t in his cards?
“Adam.”
His eyes sought out hers, and he forced himself to maintain eye contact. “What?”
“I can tell something is up. We all can. You’re distracted, working odd hours, and you’re not even doing your best work. Whatever it is, you need to get a handle on it.”
Adam bit back the instinct to reprimand her for talking to him that way. She wasn’t his boss. She didn’t even have any ownership in this place at all—though he had been considering giving her an opportunity to become a partner of sorts. She was always the first to arrive and the last to leave—besides himself of course. If anyone deserved to get some perks out of this place, it was her.
Instead of biting her head off, he leaned back in his seat. “I’m doing just fine. I have a few things to hammer out and then I’ll be back to my old self.” At least he hoped he would. This whole rodeo thing had turned him upside down and inside out.
“Well, until you get it all sorted, I’m going to get to work. And maybe you should go home and get some rest.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. You can’t operate heavy machinery in your state. What would your father say?”
Adam shook his head. “My father won’t have to know about any of this as long as you don’t tell him. The work is getting done. The customers are happy. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?”
Bridget threw her hands into the air then strode toward the shop. She didn’t have to agree with the way he was handling things. She just had to accept it for what it was.
The door opened, and without looking up, he muttered, “We open at eight. Come back in two hours.”
“I thought maybe you’d make an exception for me.”
Adam sat up straighter in his seat and stared at Dahlia. He blinked, tempted to rub his eyes. He was hallucinating, right? Never had she come into his shop before. Their only interactions had been at the past rodeos and when they’d bumped into each other at the country club. Now she was here, and he couldn’t help but feel something was off.
