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“What did she say?”
“That she’s here to change my mind.”
“Anything else?”
“Not so far.”
“Not so far…she’sstill there?”
“Yeah.” I kick a stray shingle away, watching it fall to the ground, where dozens of others lie.
“Is she refusing to leave?”
“Sort of.” I hesitate, then exhale. “Not really. I told her I’m not changing my mind. She stayed anyway.”
Brayden exhales. “All right. I’ll get on a flight first thing tomorrow and—”
“No, that’s not necessary. A couple of days here, and I’m sure she’ll be heading right back to New York.”
I stare at the shiny black sedan parked next to my truck, wishing I were as confident as I sound. So far, I’ve underestimated Piper’s stubbornness.
“Okay. Let me know if you change your mind. I was already planning on coming down for the fair next week. I could easily move my flight so I’m there sooner.”
“Thanks, Brayden.”
“Always. We’ll talk soon, all right?”
“Yeah. Sounds good.”
I continue staring at the sedan for a minute after we hang up. Then glance toward the old bunkhouse, its stretched shape distinctive from this vantage point. No sign of red hair. I blow out an irritated breath and then stand, forcing myself to get back to work.
CHAPTERNINE
PIPER
The second day of waking up in the bunkhouse isn’t quite as jarring as the first. It felt cooler last night, or maybe I was just too tired to care. Either way, I definitely managed more than a few hours of sleep.
I roll out of bed and stretch before heading into the bathroom. There’s no counter surrounding the sink, so I’ve lined up all my bottles on the tiled floor. I have to squat and then stand between each step of my morning routine. By the time I’m finished, my quads are burning.
I dress and head outside, squinting at the bright sun. I packed too quickly to remember essentials, like a hat or sunglasses.
After a moment of deliberation, I walk toward the long, low building I avoided yesterday. I’m up about an hour later than I was yesterday, so the staff Mabel mentioned must have already come and gone.
A pen located left of the barn contains the first cows I’ve seen since I arrived. There are easily a few dozen of them, swishing tails lazily to chase away flies as they stand huddled in the shade cast by the massive building. I click my tongue, and none of them so much as move. One eyes me suspiciously, broad head slightly tilted.
After carefully checking for nails, I lean against the fence, resting my chin on the top of one post. It’s quiet and peaceful as I watch the relaxed animals, the shade a perfect temperature.
The buzz of my phone against my hip startles me. I straighten, pulling it out of my pocket and smiling when I see the name on the screen.
“Hey, Alex.”
“Hey, Pipsqueak.”
I’ve given up on asking my brothers not to call me by my childhood nickname. Partly as reverse psychology—I’m hoping they’ll get bored of it if I act like it doesn’t annoy me. So far, no luck. Coming from Alex, it’s the least irritating. He’s the youngest of my brothers and the one I’ve always been closest to.
“Mom told me you decided to miss family dinner so you could visit Texas?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s awork trip, not a vacation.”
