Small Town Smokeshow (The Calloway Ranch #2)

Prologue

Maggie

One Year Earlier

The sun was going down slowly, bleeding orange and honey over the Calloway Ranch.

I’d driven down this road more times than I could count, but my heart still pounded like I was trespassing somewhere I didn’t belong.

Something about this land had always called to me, like it recognized something in me I couldn’t name, yet I’d spent the entire drive arguing with myself about whether coming here tonight was a mistake.

McCoy had left his jacket in my truck three days ago, and it had been riding shotgun ever since.

There were half a dozen ways for me to get it back to him that didn’t involve me driving fifteen minutes past the edge of town in the August heat.

I could have texted him, he could have come by the bakery, and yet here I was.

There were a million reasons why I shouldn’t have come here, but they all scattered like dust when I rounded the bend and saw him leaning against his truck.

Hunter Calloway.

He looked better than any man had a right to in heat like this. He wore old jeans, a faded T-shirt, and a baseball cap pulled low enough to shade those reckless brown eyes. Eyes I couldn’t seem to forget, no matter how hard I tried.

Eyes that had looked right through me when I moved to Willow Grove and found my sister instead.

But now my sister had hightailed it back to Alabama, and all that was left was Hunter’s gaze drifting up to meet mine as he watched my truck roll to a stop behind his. He shoved his hands into his pockets as a slow smile spread across his face, and I gathered my courage and climbed out of my truck.

“What’s up, Mags?” He watched me carefully, but that smile never dropped from his face.

“I found this.” I lifted McCoy’s jacket before clutching it against my chest like armor. “McCoy left it in my truck after the bonfire the other night. I figured he might need it back.”

Hunter’s gaze dropped to the jacket, his expression changing so subtly most people wouldn’t notice, but I’d spent too many hours studying the angles of Hunter Calloway’s face not to catch the way his jaw tightened before that easy smile slid back into place.

“Yeah. We wouldn’t want McCoy catching a chill,” he said with a lazy grin, but something beneath it was as sharp as barbed wire. “He’s got you looking out for him now?”

I shifted my weight as I hugged the jacket tighter. “I’m not looking out for him. I’m returning his jacket. That’s what friends do.” My fingers curled around the fabric as his warm brown eyes met mine. “Or did you forget that?”

I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.

Hunter and I had been friends once upon a time.

When we first moved to Willow Grove, he’d been kind to me, funny and easy.

Then my sister swooped in, and suddenly I was watching from the sidelines as she took him, broke him, and left town without looking back.

Now whenever his eyes met mine, they seemed to be looking at her ghost instead of me, and I couldn’t decide what was worse, that he might still be in love with her or that I wanted him to see me so badly my skin felt like it might crack open from the wanting.

“Friends.” His jaw tightened as he said the word like he was testing its weight. “Is that what you think I’ve forgotten how to be?”

Heat crawled up my neck as I turned away from him, buying time in the stillness of the lake. The surface caught the fading sunlight, and it was so damn beautiful. Everything about this land was.

“I’m not sure, Hunter. Were we ever really friends?”

When I finally looked back at him, his face had changed. One hand moved up to rub the stubble along his jawline, and his eyes hardened. He looked tired. “It’s been one hell of a day, Maggie.”

“Right. Of course.” I slipped around him, my shoulder barely brushing his as I made for the porch. The jacket landed with a soft thud on the top step. “Tell McCoy I brought that by.” My voice sounded too high, too tight, as I gestured toward the crumpled fabric and pivoted back toward my truck.

I shouldn’t have come here.

His hand shot out as I passed, circling my wrist. “Mags.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper that scraped against something deep in my chest. His thumb pressed against my pulse point, and I wondered if he could feel how it jumped beneath his touch.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes held mine with an intensity that made it suddenly hard to breathe.

I shook my head and tried to pull out of his grip, but his fingers tightened just enough to hold me there.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” The words came out breathier than I intended, and I swallowed hard, watching his eyes track the movement of my throat.

“I’m just your ex’s little sister. You don’t owe me a thing. ”

His eyes fell to my mouth, lingering there until my lips parted involuntarily. “We both know that isn’t true.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper, and his grip on my wrist shifted, his thumb pressing so firmly against me I felt it in my gut.

“Do we?” I asked, and I shouldn’t have. I should have just pulled away, climbed back in my truck, and left Hunter Calloway in the dust.

But my feet wouldn’t move and my wrist beneath his touch burned like a brand. His grip sent warning signals flaring through my body that should have made me want to run, but I leaned into the flame anyway.

“You never make anything easy, do you?” His words were rough with frustration.

“Are things not easy for you, Hunter?” I cocked my head to study him, and his jaw flexed beneath his stubbled skin.

He didn’t answer at first. He just stared at me, and the weight of the August sun pressed down against me until I could feel my skin dampen with sweat. He stepped in so close I could feel the heat of his body and count the freckles scattered high on his cheeks.

His eyes lingered, a slow drawl over my cheekbones, my mouth, and the hollow of my throat. I couldn’t get enough of it, not even as each second made my insides coil tighter.

But that was foolish.

“I need to get home.” I pulled my wrist out of his grip again, and this time, he finally let me go. “I have a busy day at the bakery tomorrow.”

“Of course.” He stepped back, and I didn’t look at him again.

I fled to my truck and dropped into the driver’s seat, slamming the door like it might shield me from the way I could still feel him watching me. My fingers shook as I turned the ignition, and the engine started to roar to life before it sputtered out.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I hissed, twisting the key again, but this time there was nothing but a few clicks then silence.

Of course this would happen now, with Hunter Calloway standing there staring at me with his arms crossed over his chest. I cranked the key three more times, each attempt more desperate than the last, and when I finally looked up, he was already striding toward me.

“What did you do to this thing?” he asked as he tapped his fingers against the hood.

I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel and sent up a little prayer to whatever god handled automotive emergencies and awkward encounters with your sister’s devastatingly handsome ex-boyfriend.

I just needed the damn thing to run long enough to get me off the Calloway Ranch.

After that, it could burst into flames, and I would skip back into town.

“My truck was running perfectly fine just a few minutes ago.” My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “It got me here, didn’t it?” The truth was it had been making a grinding noise for weeks, but it had gotten me from point A to point B without any issues. Until now.

Hunter raised an eyebrow and leaned through my open window. I turned my head, finding his face inches from mine, close enough that I could smell the sunshine and leather that clung to his skin.

“Pop the hood, Mags.”

I fumbled for the release lever, heart hammering in my chest so loud I was sure he could hear it.

The sound of the latch snapping echoed through the cab, and Hunter propped a hand on the edge of my open window.

His arm flexed as he straightened, then he rounded the front of my truck and opened the hood.

The sound of metal scraping metal echoed across the gravel drive, sharp enough to make me wince.

I sat there, sweaty and breathless in my own driver’s seat, and watched through the split at the edge of my hood as Hunter planted both hands on my truck like he could just will the thing back to life.

His forearms flexed, and his T-shirt pulled tight across his shoulders as he leaned in.

I hated how aware I was of everything when he was this close.

Every twitch of muscle in his arms, every bead of sweat rolling down his forearm, every low cuss word he muttered under his breath, I felt them like a live wire running straight from his body into mine.

His hands moved over the engine, and I genuinely had no idea if he knew what he was doing.

But that didn’t stop me from climbing out, shutting my door with a soft click, and positioning myself against the warm metal of the truck to watch his every move.

“When’s the last time you had this thing maintenanced?” His eyes flicked up to mine before returning his attention to the engine.

“Not that long ago.” I tucked my hands into my back pockets. “I just had the oil changed last month.”

Hunter’s lips twitched. “I meant beyond an oil change, Mags. This thing needs a full tune-up beyond whatever the hell is wrong with it.”

I scanned the empty driveway, mentally calculating my options. Why the hell had I come here? I’d known this was a bad idea, and still, I drove straight onto this ranch like an idiot. “Any chance McCoy’s on his way home?”