Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ABBI
“ Y ou do?” Brady asks, his eyebrows climbing as I crawl over the couch and straddle his lap. His hands land on my ass as I wrap my arms around his neck and lean in so I can bury my face against him. “And what is that, sweetheart?”
“I need you inside of me.” I’m too tired to flirt and play games. I’ve had the shittiest of shit days, and right now, I want my man, naked, inside of me, making me forget all about it. “Not that the massage isn’t nice, but—whoa!”
I’m cut off when he simply stands, hands still on my ass, and carries me up the stairs. He groans a bit, and I pull back to see his face.
“You’re hurting.”
“I’m fine,” he says and kisses me firmly. “And as much as I want to fuck you until your legs shake and all of Bitterroot Valley knows my name, I can’t do that with your daughter asleep upstairs, so I’m taking you to a room that I can lock.”
“Smart. You’re a smart man, Cowboy.”
He grins, closes and locks my bedroom door, and then sets me on my feet.
Without hesitation, I strip out of my clothes. “No games tonight. I can’t take the time to flirt and be… cute. I just need you, Brady.”
“You’re always cute.” He unbuttons his shirt and tosses it aside, and my mouth goes dry at the sight of his fucking stellar torso.
Muscles for days and smooth skin make my mouth water.
The scars remind me that what he does for a living scares the shit out of me.
“Keep looking at me like that,” he growls, watching me with hooded eyes, “and I won’t last ten seconds.”
“You usually last at least eight.”
He smirks at that, and then we’re naked and on my bed, lying facing each other with my leg hitched up on his hip and his hand in my hair, holding me where he wants me so he can kiss the ever-loving fuck out of me.
No one kisses like Brady Wild.
His lips are soft, but he’s confident and sure about what he wants from me. His tongue isn’t too aggressive and slides against mine, making everything in me tighten with need.
“I’m going to make you want to scream,” he whispers as he kisses his way along my jawline. “I’m going to make sure that you never forget exactly who you belong to.”
Holy shit.
Belong to him? Belong to him. The feminist in me, the independent woman, should bristle at that and remind him that I belong to myself , thank you very much.
But his hand glides down my spine to my ass, pulling me more firmly against him where the hard length of his need presses against my stomach, and I know without a doubt that if I’ve ever belonged to anyone in my life, it’s to this man.
I am Brady Wild’s, and he’ll have my heart until the end of the time. It’s as simple and as scary as that.
He rolls us so I’m tucked under him, and then he kisses his way down to my breasts.
If I’ve learned anything about this cowboy, it’s that he’s a breast man, without a doubt. And I love the way he molds them with his hands, nipping and kissing at the already pebbled nubs until my legs scissor, and I want him inside of me now.
“Brady.” My hands are in his hair, holding on as his hand finds my center, and he groans.
“Jesus, you’re so wet for me, baby.”
“Always.” I have to swallow hard. “God, I’m always ready for you. Brady, I need you. Right now.”
But he shakes his head and journeys farther south. I don’t want him to kiss me there now. I want his gorgeous, big cock filling me up, reminding me how completely we fit together and how amazing it feels when we’re together.
As soon as his lips fasten on me, and he hollows out his cheeks, sucking the tenderest of flesh inside of his mouth and using that magical tongue, all thought flies right out the window.
“Ah, goddamnit.” My words run together, and I have to hold on to the pillow on either side of my head, gripping until my knuckles feel like they might break. “Holy fuck, Cowboy.”
He moans and then pushes two fingers inside of me, making that come here motion that hits that perfect spot, and he’s right, my legs shake, and I see stars, and I have to turn my head into the pillow to swallow my screams.
Someone’s kissing up my body—I hope it’s Brady—and then he’s cradled between my thighs, the length of his heavy cock resting along my center, and he kisses me, brushing my hair off my cheeks.
I can taste myself mixed in with his desire, and it’s enough to fuel my hunger for him again.
“Brady,” I whisper against his lips.
“Yes, my love?”
“I. Need. You inside. Of me.” I cup his face and nibble on his bottom lip. “Right now. Okay?”
That slow, devastating smile spreads over his lips as his hips rear back, and then he slides inside of me quickly, stretching me and burying himself to the hilt.
“Goddamn,” he mutters, bracing his forehead against my own. “So fucking tight.”
His fingers find my clit, and as he begins to move, he circles that bundle of nerves until I’m right at the precipice of falling off the edge again.
“Now,” he growls. “Fucking come. Open your pretty eyes and come for me, Abs.”
I couldn’t defy him if I wanted to, but I absolutely don’t want to. My gaze clings to his as he hurls me right off of that cliff and into oblivion, falling with me. I want to scream his name, but he covers my mouth with his and kisses me until the climax has wrung us both out.
And later, after we’ve cleaned up and tidied up downstairs before climbing back into bed, Brady pulls me against him and brushes his mouth back and forth on the crown of my head.
“I love you.” I sigh with it, so relieved that I can say those words whenever I want to. “So much that sometimes it scares me.”
“I’ve got you.” His voice is heavy with sleep, and his arms tighten around me. “And I love you, too, baby.”
“We’re here,” Erin announces as she and I walk into Polly’s house on Friday night. Our kids are with Joy and John for a sleepover, and we’ve decided that we all need a girls’ night out.
But Polly is very pregnant and much more comfortable at home, so we brought all the fun to her.
“We’re having virgin huckleberry margaritas,” Summer informs Polly. “And those three can get hammered if they want to.”
“And you can all stay out here so that no one is driving,” Polly adds, clapping her hands. “This is fun. And probably a good distraction for you, Abbi.”
I nod and pour the bag of corn chips into a big bowl. “Yeah, I could use a distraction while Brady’s out of town.”
“Ryan’s gone, too,” Polly says with a sigh. “It’s his last big trip out of the country before the little one arrives. He’ll be spending the next few months at home with us, so he has to wrap up some business first. He had to go all the way to Amsterdam.”
“That’s a long way,” Millie says.
“Way farther than Wyoming,” I agree and lean over to pat Polly’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, friend.”
“Me, too,” she says. “Because it means that Brady has to fly commercial on his way home, and that delays things for you.”
I hadn’t thought of that. My stomach sinks, knowing that Brady will now be gone for another day, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
He’ll be home again before I know it.
“Okay, no being sad,” Millie decides. “We have each other, and we’re going to have a good night. We can play pool and listen to music and gossip about all the tea happening in Bitterroot Valley.”
“I want to hear the tea,” Erin says, waggling her eyebrows. “Yes, please.”
We have the best time making enchiladas with chips and salsa in Polly’s massive, amazing, gorgeous kitchen, and then we take our drinks and dessert of lemon cupcakes from The Sugar Studio to the game room, where some of us play pool and others lounge on couches.
“Why are my feet so swollen?” Polly asks the room at large. “Like, they’re huge. And it’s not hot outside or anything. It’s dumb.”
“Because you’re going to have a little baby,” I remind her and smile at her bump. “Tell me again why we don’t know the sex?”
“Oh, there was sex,” Erin says with a wise nod, making me snort with laughter.
“Jesus Christ,” Millie mutters, making me grin.
“Because we want to be surprised,” Polly answers and rubs her belly again. “I don’t care if it’s a girl or a boy, as long as it’s healthy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Summer replies, rolling her eyes. “But there are certain besties who would like to buy pink or blue shit, Poll. If that’s a girl in there, I want to buy frilly things. Like, all the frilly things in the world. You’re stealing that from me.”
“No, I’m not,” Polly says with a laugh. “You can buy things after it’s born. Besides, we don’t need anything. I don’t want you guys to spend your money on us. Ryan?—”
“He may be rich,” I say, interrupting her, “and that’s great for you, but honey, we’re your friends, and we want to buy stuff for you. Because we’re your village, and that’s what we do.”
“Don’t make me cry.” Polly rests her head back on the couch. “For the love of God, don’t make the waterworks start because it’s hard to make them stop.”
“Did you have a huge baby shower and a million gifts when you were having Daisy, Abbi?” Millie asks, stuffing a cupcake into her mouth.
And suddenly, all of the laughter leaves me, and I’m reminded of what Daisy and I didn’t have before we came here.
“No.” I shake my head and pour myself another margarita. “No gifts.”
“Not one gift?” Erin demands.
“I didn’t have family,” I remind them. “And Nate’s family wasn’t exactly pleased that I got knocked up and was trapping him into marriage.”
“Bullshit,” Millie bites out, clearly pissed on my behalf.
“It’s fine. Nate and I were able to buy everything we needed. But you ,” I turn to Polly, “have people, and those people love you.”
“I know,” she says, blowing out a breath. “And I love you all, too. Summer, are you guys going to find out what you’re having?”
Summer grins and rubs her own smaller baby bump. “It’s a boy.”
“Oh, my God!”
My eyes sting with tears as I grin at my friend. There are hugs and smiles, and then Polly breaks down into tears.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her.
“Well, now I want to know, too.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “But Ryan wants to wait?”
“No, I’m the dumbass who said we should wait, and Ryan just gives me whatever I want. I’m a complete idiot.”
“You can call them in the morning,” Erin reminds her, “and ask them. I’m sure they’ve already noted the sex somewhere, because although they didn’t tell you, they still saw it.”
“That’s true,” Millie says. “Just call them.”
“A baby boy,” Erin says, reaching for Summer’s hand. “That’s so exciting. Do you know what you might name him?”
“We have a list of things that we don’t hate. So far, we’re thinking about Devin, Lincoln, or August.”
“Oh, I like all of those,” Millie says and sips her margarita.
I’m feeling fuzzy. More than tipsy but not shitfaced.
And that means that I’ll probably want to fall asleep soon.
“You guys, I hate to do this, but I think I need to go to bed.”
“I didn’t want to be the first one to tap out,” Erin says. “The pregnant girls beat us!”
With a snort, we stand and walk through the house to the wing of guest rooms. Yes, the wing of guest rooms.
This house is ridiculously big.
When I’m tucked inside of my little room, I pull out my phone and call Brady.
“Abs?” He sounds sleepy, and I kick myself for not texting first. “You okay, baby?”
“Yeah, sorry.” I sound a little slurry. “I shoulda texted, but I’m drunk.”
He sniffs, and I can hear the bed rustling. “You’re drunk ? Where’s Daisy?”
“Hey, I’m not a bad mom. She’s with your mom, if you must know. We had a girls’ night at Polly’s house, and I’m staying here because I can’t even walk a straight line.”
“Oh, good.” I can practically hear him relax. “I’m glad you’re safe. Did you have fun?”
“It’s always fun when we’re together. What are you doing? I bet you look hot, no matter what it is.”
He chuckles. “I was sleeping, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. I woke you up. You should go back to sleep and ignore me.”
“Not a chance. I can’t ignore you; you’re too important.”
And just like that, I’m a pile of goo. “Did you know that sometimes you say things to me that make me feel really good?”
“It would suck if I made you feel bad, Blue Eyes. How much did you have to drink?”
“Don’t know. We kept pouring from the pitcher.” I roll onto my side, cradling the phone to my cheek. “I miss you.”
“I know. I miss you, too.”
“And this time, you don’t get to come home in Ryan’s plane.”
“Heard about that, did you?”
“Yeah. Sucks. How first world are we?”
“I know, but it does suck. It means I won’t get home until Sunday evening.”
Almost a whole day later than usual.
“Oh. Okay. It’s okay. You’re working and stuff. How do you feel?”
“Like I just recovered from last week.” He chuckles in my ear, and my eyes feel heavy. “But it’ll be okay. This time tomorrow, the ride will be over.”
“Are you excited?”
“Hell yeah. It’s an incredible feeling to ride a bull.”
“I know.” I snort-laugh. “Tell me about it. I think I’ve just recovered myself.”
“You are drunk.”
“And sleepy.”
“You’re sounding sleepy.”
“And horny. Man! I should have brought my toy with me. Fail.”
“Wait. Are you telling me that you use that thing when I’m not home?”
“Uh, no?”
“Abbi. Tell me the truth.” His voice is hard and it makes me squeeze my thighs together.
“I mean, I haven’t , but now I think I will. Because you’re gone, so I can’t have the real thing. I think you’d get mad at me if I went out looking for a replacement.”
“Be careful, Blue Eyes.” His voice is almost lethal now, like he clearly didn’t find that funny.
“I make bad jokes when I’m drunk. It’s either you or plastic for me, Cowboy.”
“Don’t use that fucking toy until I’m home. Do you understand me?”
I bite my lip. Shit, he’s hot when he gets all bossy and growly like this. “If you’re home, I don’t need the toy, remember?”
“I’m going to use it on you myself.”
“How?” I frown into the darkness. “How does that even work? Brady. My back door is exit only. You’re not going to?—”
Now he’s laughing his ass off in my ear, and I can’t help but grin.
“No back door play for you, Cowboy.”
“That’s not what I was planning on, but I bet we could have fun with that.”
“Nope. No way. Nuh-uh.” I shake my head and squeeze my cheeks together. “But if you want to turn it on vibrate and push it against my clit while you’re inside of me?—”
“ Abbi. ”
“What?”
“I can’t have this conversation with you when you’re a thousand miles away.”
“Why? Are you hard? Are you horny, too? Man, this is bad timing.”
“You’re killing me.”
“If you were here, we could do all kinds of fun things. Well, maybe not here , in your brother’s house, but you know what I mean.”
“Abs?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
I smile and hug myself around my middle. “I know. It’s so crazy. I love you, too.”
I’m so hungry.
My stomach growls really loud, and I push my hands over it, as if I can cover the sound with them. I haven’t had any food in three days. Only water.
Because I’m a bad girl. And I’m fat.
I don’t mean to be either of those things. I don’t eat too much, only what I’m given, and that never even fills me up all the way.
I have to sit in the living room, perfectly still on the couch, while the family I live with gets to have dinner in the dining room. This house is the biggest one I’ve ever lived in, with tall ceilings that make footsteps echo on the tile floor. It’s cold in here all the time.
I can smell the roasted chicken from the oven, and my stomach growls again. I feel so sick. Nauseous and empty and shaky. This morning, I was dizzy.
I just need a piece of chicken. Just a couple of bites, and I’ll be okay.
I can’t help the whimper that comes out of my mouth, and I hear everyone stop eating.
Oh, no.
“You want food, fatso?” It’s the oldest son who yells it, a laugh in his mean voice. “You can have the scraps.”
“No, she doesn’t get anything,” the daughter says. God, I hate her prissy voice. She’s so mean to me, and I have to share a room with her. It’s humiliating when she laughs at me when I have to change my clothes. “She’s fat; she won’t starve.”
There’s more laughter, and I have to fold my lips in so I don’t cry out. At least no one in this house has tried to rape me.
They just humiliate me here. And withhold food from me.
I’m always so hungry.
I can hear them scraping the silverware over the plates, and then they get up and start to take their finished meals into the kitchen.
I wish I could just have whatever they didn’t finish. I’d be happy with anything at all.
The youngest child, a girl about the age of eight, is the last to leave the table, and she looks around the room, then walks to me and holds out a big chunk of chicken that she must have hidden in her napkin for me.
“Hurry,” she whispers, and I snatch it out of her hand and shove it into my mouth. But as I chew, the mom comes in and sees what’s happening.
“Go to your room, Elizabeth.”
“Mama—”
“To your room.”
The mom hasn’t raised her voice, but the girl swallows hard, gives me a sympathetic look, and then slinks away up the stairs.
I’ve just finished swallowing the chicken when the mom walks calmly to me, rears her hand back, and slaps me across the face so hard that I see stars.
I cry out, so she does it again.
And then a third time.
Then she grips onto my face, her fingertips digging into my flesh. “You eat when I tell you to eat, you hear me?”
I can only whimper a response.
“You’re a gross, fat pig, and I’m going to get all of this fat off of you. You don’t want to be fat, do you?”
More whimpers.
“Now you have to go another two days.”
No. God, no. I’m so hungry.
I sit up in bed, gasping, tears coming down my face. At first, I panic because I don’t know where I am. Am I in another foster home? Oh, God, will they hurt me here?
But then I remember that this is Polly’s house, and I’m with my friends.
I’m okay.
Everything is going to be okay.
I miss Brady, and I reach for my phone, but it’s not even dawn yet, and I woke him up late last night. He has to ride today, and I don’t want him to be distracted or too exhausted.
“You’re okay.” I set the phone down and pad into the bathroom, where I splash some cold water over my face. “You’re fucked up, but you’re okay.”
I look at myself in the mirror and remember the young woman I once was, and feel the tears well for her. She didn’t deserve to be treated like that. Hell, no one does. People can be so cruel, so evil and mean, and I just don’t understand that.
I was a good kid. I was a nice kid. And still, I was brutalized mercilessly by the people who were supposed to help me. And why? Because I’m not naturally thin? Because they could ? It’s so fucked-up.
I shake my head and splash the water once more and then pat my face dry with a thick, soft towel.
And then another memory hits me. In that same fucked-up house, they didn’t let me dry off with a towel after bathing.
I had to use my own dirty clothes.
“Enough.” I shake that off and pad back to the bed. That’s not where I am anymore. My life is amazing. I have friends who care about me, my daughter is safe and happy, and I have the love of an amazing man who is what dreams are made of.
There’s no need to dwell on the past. I wish my subconscious would catch up to the rest of me.
I have no intention of falling back to sleep, but I lie down anyway and take a long, deep breath.
I’ve had a sinking feeling in my gut all fucking day. Of course, I’m hungover, but that’s not it.
I did end up falling back to sleep after the nightmare, but still rose early and chatted with Polly over coffee in the kitchen. Everyone else was still asleep when I left to go home to shower and change my clothes and then go to work.
I’m working seven days a week right now. Sometimes, I take off earlier than I should, but for the most part, I’m spending a lot of hours working. I usually go out in the field in the mornings to help clean some of the units, and then I go to the office in the afternoon to get laundry underway, work on the schedule, and run errands for more supplies, as needed.
To say that I’m busy is a massive understatement.
I helped clean four units all before noon today, and then I came back to my office to do that laundry, but all day, I felt like something bad was going to happen.
“Please don’t let it be Brady.”
I’ve texted him more than usual today. I’m never this needy when he’s gone, but something isn’t right.
I don’t mean between us. Brady and I are solid. But there’s something in my gut that won’t shut up. The poor man has texted me back twice, reassuring me that everything’s normal and absolutely fine on his end, trying to put my mind at ease. I need to let him focus and do his thing so it stays that way.
The dryer signals the end of a cycle, so I walk back to the laundry room and realize that I’m sloshing through water.
About two inches of it.
“Shit.”
It occurs to me that the washer obviously isn’t running anymore either, and it appears that it has a leak.
Great.
One more thing to worry about and deal with when I have no time or brain space for this.
At least I have two washing machines, so I’m not completely dead in the water, so to speak. It takes me thirty minutes to find a plumber who has time to come take a look at it today, and then I find out that it’s not an easy fix.
Because of course, it isn’t.
No, that would be too easy.
Maybe this is the thing that was making my gut feel weird. I take a second to take stock of my feelings and realize, nope. That’s not it.
“I have to order a couple of things,” Peter the plumber—I can’t make this shit up—says with a sigh. “We can’t get much overnighted out here, but it shouldn’t be more than a couple of days.”
“A couple of days ?” I blink, staring at the mountain of laundry. “I’ll be here all night.”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t have it in stock at the shop. I’ll see if I can get it FedExed overnight, but inevitably, it will take two days.”
“The joys of living in the boonies.” I force a smile and then shrug. “Ah, well, looks like my daughter and I will be hanging out here tonight. Thanks for your help, Peter.”
“I’ll keep you posted, Abbi.” He walks out, and I give the busted washer the stink eye.
“Today of all days?” I demand, as if it’ll talk back to me. With a deep sigh, I go find a mop and a bucket and then decide to use the wet vac because that’ll pull the water up faster. It’s noisy, and I swear I can hear ringing, and when I turn it off, I find that I’m right.
My phone is ringing, and I don’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Miss Abbi, this is Lucky out at the barn.”
My stomach churns. Daisy’s out at the barn today for riding lessons.
“Hi, Lucky. Do you have bad news for me?”
“Well, I don’t want you to panic because Little Miss is fine. Or, she will be. She fell off the horse this afternoon and hurt her wrist.”
“Crap,” I whisper. “Is it broken?”
“We don’t think so, but I think it’ll make everyone feel better if she gets an X-ray. What do you think?”
“I agree. I’ll come out right away and get her and take her to the ER.”
“I’m real sorry about this, ma’am. It’s never fun when the little ones fall off.”
“It’s not your fault. I’ll be there soon.”
I click off and then turn and stare at the mess that I haven’t finished cleaning up, but then throw my hands up in the air.
My daughter is the most important thing.
So, I send a text to my crew to fill them in on what’s happening, and then I lock the door behind me and drive out to the ranch, straight to the barn.
“I think she’s fine,” Erin assures me as I get out of the car. “But she’s favoring her wrist a bit. Scared her more than anything.”
“I bet. It would scare me, too.” I smile at her and then look over to where my baby is sitting with Holly and Johnny. “Hey, baby. I hear you took a fall.”
She nods and then starts to cry again, and I inwardly roll my eyes. She’d already calmed down, but now she has to turn the tears back on for my benefit.
Which is fine.
“Come on, pretty girl. We’re going to the doctor.”
“She wasn’t going too fast or anything,” Johnny says as he and his sister walk with Daisy. “It happened so fast. I don’t know what went wrong.”
“Sometimes, people just fall,” I tell him and pat him on the shoulder. “There wasn’t anything you could have done.”
He’s just like his dad and uncles, wanting to protect everyone. He’s the cutest kid, and I’m so glad that Daisy is growing up with him and Holly.
I get Daisy buckled into her seat and then wave as I leave the ranch.
“Does it hurt, babes?”
She nods, holding the wrist against her chest, and that makes me frown. Maybe she did break it.
I guess we’ll find out soon enough.
The emergency room isn’t busy when we walk in, and to my surprise, we’re whisked right back to a little room where a nurse takes Daisy’s vitals and then asks her what happened.
“I was riding a horse, and I fell off.”
“Well, that’ll do it, won’t it?” The nurse smiles up at me. “Dr. Blackwell will be in very soon.”
That’s right. I remember the girls saying that one of the Blackwell brothers is a doctor. If he looks anything like Brooks or Bridger, he’s hot with a capital H.
Was this what put the pit in my stomach all day? It’s not gone, but then, I’m sitting at the hospital with my injured daughter, so it makes sense that I’m still a little off.
“Did you tell Brady that I fell?” Daisy asks me.
“Not yet.” I don’t know if I should. He rides in just a couple of hours, and I don’t want to take his focus away from that bull and doing what he needs to do. “I think we’ll wait until we know for sure what’s wrong, okay?”
Daisy nods. “I miss him.”
“I know, baby. He’ll be home tomorrow night.”
“Hello, I’m Dr. Blackwell.”
Yep. Hot with a capital H. Jesus, do they just breed hot men in Montana? Is it in the water?
“Hi, I’m Abbi Kastella,” I reply, shaking his hand. “And this is Daisy.”
“Abbi,” he says with a smile. “You help run the Iconic Women’s Collective.”
“Yes, I do. I know your sister, Billie.”
“Billie loves what you’re doing. She talks about it all the time. Now, let’s focus on Daisy, shall we? What happened?”
We tell him the story of Daisy falling off the horse, and he nods as he gently takes Daisy’s arm in his hands.
She winces but doesn’t cry out when he moves her hand side to side and up and down.
“Well, I suspect that it’s just sprained and bruised up, but I want to get an X-ray to make sure, okay? That means we’re going to take a picture of your bones.”
“Do you have to take them out of my body?” Daisy’s eyes are wide with horror, and Dr. Blackwell chuckles.
“Nope, the machine can see through your skin. You won’t feel a thing.”
“Okay,” my daughter replies, her shoulders sagging in relief. “Good.”
Less than thirty minutes later, he comes back with the film in his hand and puts it on the lit-up screen.
“Well, Daisy, I don’t see any sign of a broken wrist or arm. That’s excellent news.”
“Thank God,” I mutter in relief.
“Looks like it’s just banged up really good from that fall. I want you to wear a brace for a couple of weeks so you don’t move it around too much. This way, it’ll heal faster.” He turns to me. “You’ll want to give her the children’s dose of ibuprofen for a couple of days to help with swelling. Ice will be good for it, too.”
“Does that mean that I can’t ride again?”
“Just until the wrist heals,” he assures her. “I get it. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t ride my horse. But don’t worry, you’ll be back in the saddle in no time.”
“Thank you, Dr. Blackwell.”
“Call me Blake,” he says with a wink. “Are the rumors true that you and Brady Wild are an item?”
“Yes,” Daisy says with a big smile. “He’s our Brady.”
“Well, then,” Blake says with a laugh. “My loss. Have a good day, ladies.”
It’s always flattering when a sexy, successful man shows interest, but I definitely only have eyes for my man. And it seems that my daughter shares in that sentiment.
With Daisy’s injury only being a sprain, I decide to wait to tell Brady about it until after his ride. There’s no need to distract him with anything happening around here.
Besides, that pit is still sitting heavily in my stomach.
It takes another hour to get the brace and other things we need before we get home, and then we’re both exhausted.
Going back to the office tonight just isn’t going to happen, but I have so much laundry to do. So, I call Millie.
“Hey, is Daisy okay?” she asks when she answers.
“News travels fast in this town. Yes, it’s just a sprain, but it’ll take a couple of weeks to heal up. Hey, I need a favor. There’s a ton of laundry at my shop that I need to have brought to me so I can do it here at home. Do you mind grabbing it? Or come over and hang with Daisy while I go get it? Shit, I should have just called Merilee over.”
“Swear jar,” Daisy calls out, and I roll my eyes.
“We’ve got this,” Millie assures me. “Why don’t I come chill with Daisy, since I don’t have a key or know what you need from the shop, and you can do that piece of it?”
“Thank you. Yes, thank you, that would be awesome.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen.”
I hang up with her, relieved that I have a plan B for work, and then my phone rings again with a number I don’t recognize. With a frown, I accept the call.
“Hello?”
“Abbi Kastella?”
I can hear commotion in the background, and every hair on my body stands on end. “Yes?”
“This is Dr. Stephens calling from Cody, Wyoming. I have some bad news about Brady.”