2. Lindsay
Chapter Two
LINDSAY
“I don’t understand why you don’t just tell Jace the truth,” my best friend Rachel says, stirring her martini with deliberate slowness.
The olive bounces against the glass with each rotation, creating a soft clinking sound that somehow manages to irritate me more than the actual words coming out of her mouth.
I take a long sip of my whiskey sour, letting the tartness linger on my tongue before I answer. “You know why.”
“No, actually, I don’t.” Rachel leans forward, her dark curls falling over her shoulders. “Please enlighten me.”
I trace my finger through the condensation on my glass and sigh.
Rachel and I are sitting in a corner booth at a local bar, the Pitcher’s Brew. The bar’s regular crowd mills around us—a mix of ranch hands and office workers trying to make the weird limbo between Christmas and New Year’s feel less empty. Country music plays softly in the background, some sad song about lost love that feels a little too on the nose right now.
“It wasn’t exactly a lie,” I reply weakly. “I do have plans.”
“Meeting your father for the first time in ten years isn’t just ‘plans,’ Lindsay.” Rachel’s vintage cat-eye glasses slip down her nose as she fixes me with that look—the one that says she’s not letting this go. “And you know that’s not what Jace thinks you meant. He probably thinks you’re going on some hot date, which we both know isn’t true. So why not just tell him the real reason?”
“Because I can’t. I’ve been trying to figure out how, but...” I take another sip of my drink, needing the burn of alcohol to continue. “How do you tell someone you’ve lied about your family for ten years? That you’re the daughter of a convicted felon who just got out of prison?”
The lies started the summer I turned fourteen, right after my dad went to prison for armed robbery. Mom and I packed up everything we owned and moved to Cooper Hills to start over.
New town, new school, new story—and telling everyone I’d never known my dad felt simpler than admitting the truth. I was just a kid, desperate to be anyone other than the girl whose father was locked up.
“Lindsay.” Rachel’s voice softens. “Your dad made his choices. You didn’t. Jace isn’t the type of guy to hold that against you.”
“You don’t know the Claytons like I do,” I reply. “Jace’s family is like something out of a Hallmark movie—four hot, perfect cowboy brothers running their family’s ranch, hosting Sunday brunches where everyone says grace and talks about their blessings.”
“So what’s your plan? Never tell him? Keep making up mysterious dates every time he invites you somewhere?”
I groan, remembering the hurt that flashed in Jace’s eyes when I told him I was “meeting someone” on New Year’s Eve.
“I just... I need more time. Dad just got out, and I haven’t seen him in so long. I don’t even know who he is anymore, or who I am around him.” My voice catches slightly. “Can’t I figure that out first, before I complicate everything with Jace?”
“Lindsay, is all of this really about your dad? Or is this about the other thing?”
I shift in my seat, knowing exactly what she means.
I’ve been crushing on Jace since the day I moved to Cooper Hills. But we’ve never been more than friends.
Sure, there have been moments—long looks across crowded rooms, late-night conversations on the ranch’s front porch, his hand lingering just a second too long when he helps me down from his truck. But neither of us has ever crossed that invisible line, and I tell myself it’s better this way.
Safer.
But ever since I moved back and Jace hired me as the ranch’s marketing coordinator, there’s been this... something between us.
The way his eyes follow me across a room. How he finds excuses to stop by my office, leaning against my desk while we talk about everything and nothing. The electricity that crackles in the air whenever we’re alone together. Sometimes, I catch him watching me when I’m working, and for a moment, I let myself believe Rachel might be right.
But then I remember who I am, where I come from, and all the secrets I’m keeping.
“No, this isn’t about the other thing,” I lie. “And even if it were, Jace doesn’t have feelings for me. He could have literally any girl in town. Meanwhile, I’m just?—”
“Gorgeous,” Rachel cuts in. “You’re gorgeous. And you know it.”
She’s not wrong—I know how to dress for my curves, how to accentuate what I’ve got. But still. “Yeah, well, I’m sure he’ll still be the one turning heads on our little road trip tomorrow.”
“You’re going on a road trip?” Rachel asks, fishing the olive out of her martini.
“Yeah. Jace is supposed to be taking me to Antler Creek. I found this amazing collection of vintage ranch signs up from a retired rancher who lives up there.” I perk up despite myself. “You know how I’ve been trying to give the new welcome center more personality.”
Rachel giggles. “The one you said looks like a dentist’s waiting room?”
“Exactly. This guy has been collecting signs from the area’s old cattle auctions and ranch sales. We’re talking original hand-painted ones from the 1950s and 60s.” I sip my drink, remembering how excited I’d been when I first saw the photos. “Each one tells a piece of the region’s ranching history. I’ve been negotiating with him for weeks, and he finally agreed to sell them.”
“But now, after yesterday...” I trail off, tracing the rim of my glass. “Jace probably won’t even want to drive me anymore. He insisted on going with me when I first mentioned the trip. But now he’s being all weird about it.”
Rachel snorts. “Please. That man would drive you to Alaska if you asked him to pick up a paperclip.”
“He’s barely spoken to me since yesterday,” I protest, pulling out my phone to check it again. No messages. “And he hasn’t responded to my texts all day.”
“Because he thinks you’re going on a date with someone else!” She throws her hands up, nearly knocking over her martini. “Ugh, you two are exhausting. You know what normal people do when there’s a misunderstanding? They talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I can’t exactly say, ‘Hey Jace, sorry I’ve been lying to you for the past ten years about my family.’”
“Actually, yes. That’s exactly what you could say.” Rachel crosses her arms. “Instead, you’re going to spend five hours tomorrow sitting in uncomfortable silence, pretending you don’t have feelings for each other, while you’re both too stubborn to actually communicate.”
Before I can reply, both our phones buzz simultaneously.
Jasmyn: Miss you girls! Give me all the updates tomorrow. Maisey insisted on “one more loop” around the rink approximately 47 times
Rachel looks up at me and smirks.
Rachel: Nothing to report. Just Lindsay continuing her decade-long denial of feelings for a certain cowboy
I roll my eyes.
Me: I hate you both
Jasmyn: Aww, don’t be like that, future sister-in-law!
Me: I’m blocking both of you
Jasmyn: Maisey says hi! And that Uncle Jace talks about you ALL the time
Me: BLOCKING. YOU.
I toss my phone back in my purse with an exaggerated groan.
“Alright, enough about my love life. How’s what’s-his-name? The guy from the dating app?”
Rachel’s shoulders slump. “Ghost town. We had two great dates, and then—poof.” She makes a little explosion gesture with her hands. “I should be used to it by now, but apparently showing up to dinner in a dress with tiny Shakespeare quotes printed all over it is still too much for some people.”
“His loss.” I reach across the table and squeeze her hand, grateful for the millionth time for this friendship. “You just need to find someone who appreciates your particular brand of... enthusiasm.”
Rachel arches an eyebrow. “My particular brand of what now?”
I giggle. “You know what I mean. Someone who gets excited about your random facts about medieval literature and doesn’t mind that you name your houseplants after dead poets.”
“Emily Dickinson—the succulent—is thriving, thank you very much.”
“My point is,” I continue, grinning, “you need someone a little grumpy to balance out all your...” I wave my hand at her general essence, from her literature-themed tattoos to the pencil stuck through her messy bun. “Self.”
Rachel rolls her eyes. “Says the woman who’s about to spend five hours in a truck with her own personal Mr. Darcy in cowboy boots.” She grins. “Though I guess Jasmyn beat you to the whole ‘falling for a Clayton brother’ thing.”
“Don’t remind me,” I groan.
“At least someone in our group is getting their happy ending,” Rachel says, but her tone is affectionate. We both miss having Jasmyn around as much, but it’s hard to be bitter when she’s so obviously happy.
“And on that note—” I drain the last of my drink and grab my purse, “—I should head home. Five AM comes early.”
Rachel’s voice turns serious. “Please at least consider telling Jace the truth.”
I walk around the table and pull her into a tight hug. “I will,” I whisper. “Thanks for listening to all of my crazy ramblings.”
“That’s what friends are for,” she murmurs back. “Even if one of us abandons us for a hot cowboy.”
I laugh against her shoulder. “Poor Jasmyn never stood a chance.”
As I step out into the cold December night, my phone buzzes again. It’s Jace:
Jace: Hey. Sorry for being MIA all day. Wyatt called in a panic bc one of our pregnant heifers was having complications. Ended up having to help pull the calf.
Jace: Phone died somewhere between hour 2 and 3 in the barn
Me: No worries! Hope mama and baby are okay.
Jace: Both good. Pretty sure Wyatt owes me a new pair of boots tho
Me:
Jace: Shit
Me: What’s wrong
Jace: You’re mad
Me: No I’m not
Jace: That was the most “I’m annoyed but trying to play it cool” emoji if I’ve ever seen one
Jace: I get it tho
Me: It’s really not!
Jace: I’m sorry that I didn’t text you back sooner sweetheart.
Jace: I’ll grab breakfast burritos from Rosa’s tomorrow. Extra guac for you
Did he just call me sweetheart? My heart does a little flip in spite of myself.
Me: I’m really not mad. And you don’t have to drive me. I can just drive myself.
Jace: Your check engine light’s been on for two months.
Me: I can get a rental.
Jace: I’m taking you. End of discussion
Me: I’m sure you have better things to do than drive ten hours round trip.
Jace: There’s nowhere else I need to be. I’ll see you in the morning
I huddle deeper into my coat and head for my car, my heart doing that stupid little dance again.
How does he do that? Make me feel so secure even when things are weird between us?
My phone buzzes again.
Jace: And don’t even think about leaving before I get there.