Chapter 3
Willow
Bennett’s chili is perfection, as always. We’re in his large kitchen, the savory scent filling the air. It’s state-of-the-art with a chef’s stove and large island. We’re at the table near the windows overlooking the property.
Cannon’s joined us, not surprisingly, and I’ve done a really good job of remaining friendly but not too clingy. I didn’t even follow him when he went to check the cameras.
Progress is important to celebrate.
I’m scraping the bottom of my bowl, ready for a second helping, when Violet brings up the Cattleman’s Dinner.
“We finalized the orchid order today,” she says, reaching for her wine. “They’re gorgeous. Deep chocolate petals with cream-colored centers, each bloom the size of my palm. Our designs will look great with this year’s Western elegance theme!”
I nod, excited to see our designs coming to life.
Violet and I both have art and business backgrounds, so this type of job gets our creative juices flowing. The rodeo association has already booked us for next year’s dinner with the potential for the Opening Night Gala and the Buckle Ceremony. We will know if we’re on the list soon.
“So, we got another email from that customer.”
I shoot her a look, but she’s already committed.
“What customer?” Bennett asks.
“It’s nothing,” I say quickly. “Just someone being friendly.”
“Friendly?” Violet’s eyebrows rise. “Will, they commented on your pajamas.”
Cannon’s spoon stops midway to his mouth. His eyes cut to me, sharp and assessing, and the intensity of his stare makes my stomach flip in a way that has nothing to do with the conversation. “Explain.”
It’s not a request. The command in his tone sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine followed by a flush of traitorous heat that creeps up my neck and makes my skin feel too tight.
“A customer emailed to thank me for helping with flower arrangements,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Then they sent another email mentioning what I wore yesterday morning. When I took out the trash.”
“How would a customer know what you were taking out trash?” Cannon’s voice is deadly calm.
“I don’t know. Maybe they live nearby? Maybe they were driving by? It’s Wild Ridge—everyone knows everyone.”
“Show me.” He holds out his hand.
“Cannon—”
“Show me, Willow.” His voice low and rough, and I’m suddenly aware of how close he is, all clean soap and mountain air and intense blue eyes.
I pull up the emails on my phone and slide it across the table. Cannon reads in silence, his expression unreadable except for the muscle ticking in his jaw. I watch his eyes scan the screen, the way his shoulders tense, the white-knuckled grip on my phone.
There’s something primal in the way he’s reacting, dangerous and protective all at once, and I hate that even now, I’m cataloging the way his forearms flex, the hard line of his mouth, the controlled anger simmering beneath his still surface.
When he finally looks up, his blue eyes are ice-cold. “This isn’t nothing.”
“It’s probably just someone socially awkward,” I argue. “Not everyone is a threat.”
“Anyone watching you without your knowledge is a threat.” Cannon’s eyes hold mine when he says it, something dark and possessive flickering in their depths that makes my pulse quicken. He hands back my phone.
“What bothers you about this last email, Violet?” Cannon’s voice is steady. I can see that her fiancé’s demeanor has changed to protective instantly.
“Well, that’s not what Willow wore to work today.” I follow up, letting the men know I was wearing leggings and a T-shirt from when I fell asleep last night.
“And you wore this outside when you took out your trash?”
“Mm-hmm. It’s the only place I can think of where anyone would have seen me.”
Cannon’s jaw ticks as he glances at Bennett. “Do you care if we come look at your place?”
Bennett’s already standing. “I think it’s a good idea, Willow. Just so we all understand how innocent this is and can let it go.”
Cannon doesn’t react one way or another, but I already feel better knowing that Cannon and Bennett are involved.
***
The drive from Circle Ridge back into Wildridge Falls takes fifteen minutes, Cannon following in his truck while Violet and I ride with Bennett. The roads are clear tonight, the moon bright enough to see the valley spread below us as we descend from Bennett’s property.
We pull into the parking lot of my condo complex, the two-story buildings arranged in a loose semicircle around the visitor spaces.
Our unit is on the top floor of the building closest to the river.
I can hear the Silverheart’s frozen surface creaking in the cold as we climb the exterior stairs, our breath puffing white in the frigid air.
Cannon’s never been inside our condo, although he’s been to the building before dropping off Violet, which makes this feel oddly intimate. I watch as he takes in the details: the throw pillows I chose, the framed photos on the wall, the wine glasses still in the sink from last night.
I’ve had a crush on the man for the last three years, so you’d think this would be unnerving. But truthfullly? Having him in my space doesn’t feel as odd as it should, given the circumstances.
My home with Violet is a spacious open concept plan with two bedrooms, a large living area, and a porch that spans the length of the condo. It overlooks the Silverheart River, the reason I bought the place. One of my favorite things to do is sit outside with coffee or a book and enjoy the water.
Cannon walks through the apartment, his cowboy boots heavy on the light hardwood.
He checks the living room windows first, then moves down the hall.
When he enters my bedroom, my heart beats faster.
Do you blame me? He’s standing three feet from my unmade bed, my monster romance on my nightstand, and the black bra I wore yesterday draped over the chair.
He stares at my bra for several seconds before shaking his head. It was subtle, but I saw it.
Checking each set of blinds and curtains, Cannon turns on every light in the condo and heads back to the main space. “You haven’t adjusted your shades or anything since this morning? This is what all the windows look like?”
“I haven’t changed anything.”
My cousin catches my eye, supportive yet concerned. She moves beside me, pulling me into a side hug and kissing my cheek.
“Violet and Willow, I need you to stand right about here.” Cannon motions to the center of our living room, all business. “Bennett and I are going outside to determine if we can see into the condo.”
The men head outside, the air filled with tension. Violet reaches out and grabs my hand. “Cannon’s pretty intense.”
I nod. “Yeah. He’s taking it a lot more seriously than I expected.”
An uneasy feeling settles in my bones as I stand in my home.
I’ve always felt safe here, and I’m sure the email is nothing, but the fact that somebody mentioned my raggedy outfit that no one besides Violet is ever supposed to see me in—well, except for a few neighbors who don’t count—it’s just confusing.
Bennett calls Violet requesting that we move to each of the bedroom windows, which we do. A few minutes later, both men come back upstairs, , bringing cold air and tension with them.
Bennett sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “You definitely can’t see into the home, so whoever sent the emails had to have seen you outside this morning.”
“The dumpster is a short walk from the condo,” Cannon adds, “so I suppose they could have seen you from the main road.” He looks at me, his dark blue eyes concerned. His hand twitches at his side like he wants to reach for me, touch me, reassure himself I’m safe. But he doesn’t.
He never does.
Violet looks to her man then me before flicking back to Cannon. “That makes sense. Right?”
“Could be,” Cannon replies.
Bennett turns to his ranch manager. “What aren’t you saying, Cannon?”
“It could be a coincidence if you believe in them, but making contact three times in three days? That’s a little too coincidental for my taste.”
A look of concern crosses my cousin’s sweet face. “Why don’t you pack a bag and come stay at Circle Ridge for a couple of days?” Violet’s eyes slide to Cannon when she says it, a knowing look I don’t miss. “We can let this blow over.”
I don’t have to think twice. “That would be great. Our security system is solid, thanks to you guys, so I’m not worried about anyone getting inside. It’s just… the thought of staying here by myself weirds me out a little.”
The problem is that I’ve just agreed to stay at Bennett’s. Where Cannon lives in his cabin on the property. Where I’ll see him every morning. Where he’ll know exactly where I am at all times.
So much for getting over Cannon Sawyer.