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Pulling up outside the Old Dusty Boot, my nerves are shot. I spent the duration of the journey chewing my bottom lip and playing with a loose strand of wool on my sweater dress which I am now internally cursing myself for as I’ve made a pull.
Sitting up front in Conrad’s truck I scan the area. The town is quiet and I am grateful. No one knows who I was with here, or who I was back in LA, apart from the Rivera’s and my family.
At home, I couldn’t go anywhere without someone following. But here? I was just little old Aspen Warren from Maple Farm, the daughter of horse breeder extraordinaire. The down and out show jumper who ran away from it all to go to college in the city.
The girl who broke two of the Rivera brothers’ hearts.
That’s who I am here.
I’m not Aspen Warren, fiancé of Hollywood’s new up and coming actor Luke Montgomery.
I was safe here.
Well, from the paparazzi at least.
Not from the local town folks gossip. There’s one thing Lovelock Bay loved more than their land and livestock. Gossip.
I twist my engagement ring on my finger when I feel Conrad’s hand on my thigh. Unfamiliar feelings stir inside of me.
“Hey, you okay?” his kind voice pulls my eyes from the window and back to him and I give him a solemn nod.
I watch as he cuts the engine of his graypick-up and jumps out. I wait, knowing full well he will want to open my door and like the perfect gentleman, he does, swinging it wide and taking my hand as I slowly lower myself out the truck.
“Thank you,” I give him a sweet smile as he closes the door behind me and places his hand on my lower back, ushering me towards the pub.
Nerves prickle through me at the familiar stomping ground and I stall at the entrance. Overwhelming memories suffocate me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I will for them to stop flashing in front of my eyes.
“We can go somewhere else?” Conrad offers and my heart tugs at his kind offer, his hand slowly slipping from the small of my back and I inhale sharply. Forcing my eyes open, I turn my face up to look at him as I try to read his expression. His brows are furrowed but smooth as soon as my eyes meet his, his lips parted ever so slightly as he waits for my answer.
“No, it’s fine. Just a lot of old memories here,” the corner of my lips tug into a small smile and I ignore the feelings that are igniting deep inside of me.
“Good ones I hope?”
My mind flashes back to the memories that have plagued me during the drive down here.
Me having a screaming match with Riggs.
Pacey declaring his love for me in front of everyone.
Tripp and Austin dumbfounded.
Harlow betrayed because I was leaving, but little did I know she done some betraying herself.
“Yeah,” I nod, ignoring the familiar sting and I lick my lips. “Shall we?” I turn and look up at him.
“Let’s,” his hand is back where it was and we walk side by side and straight into the hellish hole that is my past.
The soft country music plays through the speakers that sit in the corners of the room, a wooden bar made out of pallets and a thick oak countertop stained in a dark mahogany. Bottles of alcohol lined up behind the bar, some a little dustier than others, deep cherry red bar stools lined and all filled with the usual locals of our small town, Lovelock Bay. Most of which are the local cowboys, ranch owners and the small business shop owners.
There are six cherry red leather booths situated around the large bar, the floors untreated wood giving it a rustic feel, the ceilings covered in beams. The walls are a light cream withLevi’sjean posters andWranglerjean posters; of course, all with cowboys modelling them. A few animal’s skull artwork pieces are hung on the walls and the odd cowboy hat pinned to the wall, with little gold plaques underneath of those that we have lost.
Conrad leads me over to one of the booths and I am grateful that we’re tucked away in the corner. My eyes scan the room as I look for my brother, Riggs and the gang but they don’t seem to be here yet and relief circles me. The wildfire that is anxiety is blanketed out as the flames flicker into nothing.
“What would you like to drink?” Conrad asks, not sitting down and resting his large hand on the wooden table.
“Um,” I lick my lips as I try and think of something. I’ve only drunk good wine and expensive champagne for the last six years so choosing something other than that is proving difficult.
“You choose?” I suggest, a sweet smile painted on my lips and he gives a curt nod and tips his invisible cowboy hat. I giggle as he turns and walks away, my eyes roaming over the back of him for a moment and a soft outbreath passes my lips. He is very good looking.
