Chapter 8
Country Chic
Layla
As I’m sitting there half-heartedly enjoying my TV dinner, flipping through channels I’m not actually watching, there’s a knock at the door.
“Just a sec!” I yell.
For half a second, my heart jumps.
Please don’t be Cole. Please don’t be Cole.
I glance at myself in the mirror anyway, smoothing my shirt, checking my face like I care, which annoys me because I shouldn’t. I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and open the door.
“Hey, girl. Where you been?” Maggie asks, already stepping inside like she owns the place. “You’ve missed dinner all week.”
“Is it my brother?” she adds, turning back to look at me. “He’s been… funny since that day you guys went to the creek. What happened?”
“He didn’t tell you?” I lift an eyebrow.
She snorts and drops onto the couch. “He don’t tell me shit.”
That tracks. Silence must be his first language.
She glances down at my TV dinner and pokes at it with her finger. “Is this what you’ve been eating? Nope. You’re eating dinner with us tomorrow night.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “He kissed me,” I say flatly. “And then he ran off like a scared little boy.”
I won’t be someone's impulse and then their regret.
“Of course he did,” Maggie mutters, shaking her head. “I knew he had a thing for you the second I saw you two pull up from the grocery store.”
“If he has a thing for me like you say,” I ask, frustration bubbling up, “why would he run off?”
“It’s Cole,” she says, like that explains everything. “He’s got issues. He’s a good guy. I mean—leaving you out there in the rain with a horse? That was insane. But I think it’s eating him alive. He’s been down. Quieter than usual. And that’s saying something.”
His guilt isn’t my responsibility. He should be feeling bad. Women don’t deserve to be treated that way. Toyed with.
“I don’t allow men to treat me like that,” I say firmly.
“Good,” she fires back without hesitation. “You shouldn’t.”
I lean against the counter, arms crossed. “It’s not like I’m here forever. I don’t understand why we can’t just have fun. Mess around. Enjoy it for what it is. I wanted this experience to be relaxing not awkward and messy and full of weird feelings.”
Maggie nods slowly. “Which is actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She sits forward now, serious. “The spring carnival’s tomorrow. A lot of people are gonna be here. I was hoping you could help with the pony rides, getting kids on and off, letting them go around a few times, taking pictures. It’s simple, but we could really use you. Only if you’re open to it.”
“Oh my God, yes. Yes, absolutely,” I say, smacking her arm without thinking. “Sorry, I just get excited.”
Something normal. Something public. Something that isn’t about him.
She grins. “Don’t be sorry. I like seeing you excited.”
She keeps going. “Cole will be there, broodiness and all. But you’ll meet a lot of folks around here. I’ll introduce you to some friends. Afterward, we do barbecue, then head to Cotton Eye’s for drinks. It’s a small bar, about a mile from here.”
“That sounds so fun,” I sigh. “I need to get out of this house. I’ve been cooped up all week. But… I did get a lot of writing done.”
“That’s a good thing,” she says.
I hesitate, then ask, “What about you, Mags? You moved back, do you have someone special waiting for you back home?”
I’ve realized she’s been holding space for everyone else and I haven’t even asked about her.
She exhales slowly. “This is my home again. I’m staying for a while. I did have someone, but I wasn’t enough. And it was time for me to come back.”
She looks down for a second before continuing.
“I left right after Mom died. Same time Abby left Cole. I didn’t handle losing her well.
I left too much on Cole. I think he associates me with leaving…
and Abby leaving him too. I love Cole. He was always our protector, steady, watchful, putting himself between us and anything that might hurt.
He was a great big brother to Luke and me, the kind who showed up without being asked and stayed even when things got hard.
I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without Cole.
He shaped me in ways I’m still discovering, and no matter how much time passes, that will always be true. ”
Everyone in this family learned how to leave. No one has learned how to stay.
My chest tightens. “I’m sorry, Maggie.”
She shrugs. “I fucked up, Layla. And now it’s time to make up for it. He’s my big brother.”
I hesitate. “Why did Abby leave him?”
“She couldn’t handle it,” Maggie says quietly. “They were engaged right before Mom died. After that, everything fell apart. She cheated. He took her back. But listen—that’s not my story to tell. It’s his.”
“I understand,” I say. “It’s just hard to get anything out of him. He’s so stubborn.”
“That he is,” Maggie agrees. “But you two will work it out.”
“I hope so,” I say softly. “He seems like a great guy underneath all that broodiness.”
She laughs and stands. “And that’s my cue.”
She heads for the door, then turns back. “Meet me out front at six a.m. Wear something cute—boots, shorts, tank top, maybe a flannel. Country chic.” She winks. “And don’t forget the boots. You’ll be in the mud.”
“I won’t forget,” I promise.
I close the door behind her, my heart lighter than it’s been in days. I’ll show up tomorrow not for Cole or to beg for his attention but for me.
My alarm goes off at 5:15 a.m., shrill and obnoxious, but I’m already awake before it finishes the second ring. I slap my phone silent and swing my legs out of bed, adrenaline humming through me like I’ve got somewhere important to be.
Because I do.
And yeah, maybe a tiny, very unhinged part of me picked out an outfit knowing damn well it would get under Cole’s skin. Not because I need his attention but because I’d like to know I still have it.
A fitted white tank that hugs my curves just right. Cutoff blue jean shorts, real Daisy Dukes, worn soft at the edges. And the Justin boots Maggie gave me, scuffed and sturdy and somehow already mine.
I pour my coffee, take that first sip, and damn near moan.
“Good morning, Tennessee,” I murmur, leaning against the counter while the caffeine hits my bloodstream.
I jump in the shower, quick but thorough. I don’t linger, but my mind does.
Cole slips in uninvited.
Those arms. That strength. The way his hand felt on my face, rough thumb dragging my bottom lip down before he kissed me like he’d been starving. The way his mouth moved with mine—confident, demanding—until he panicked and ran.
Whew. Yep, that ruined it. Okay, Layla. Get. It. Together.
I towel off, slip into my outfit, keep my makeup light and natural. I don’t need more than that. I braid my hair into two loose plaits and pull them forward over my shoulders.
I check the time.
5:55 a.m.
You’re doing this for the experience, I remind myself. Not to drive Cole Marshall wild. Even if that might be a side effect.
I jog out of the guest house and up the sidewalk, boots crunching against gravel. Cole, Maggie, John, Luke, Nancy—clustered together like this is just another morning.
My chest tightens when I see him.
“Hey, guys!” I call, slightly out of breath.
“Hey, girl!” Maggie beams.
“You look absolutely adorable,” Nancy says, eyes warm and approving.
“Hey, Layla,” Luke adds with his easy smile.
And then there’s Cole.
His gaze snaps to me and lingers, slow, heated, unmistakable. His nostrils flare. His jaw tightens. He bites his lip like he’s fighting himself before forcing his eyes away.
And that answers it. I still have his attention.
“Mornin’,” he mutters.
I nod, smiling like my pulse didn’t just spike.
They go over the rundown of the day, my responsibilities, the flow of the spring carnival, the stations set up across the ranch. It’s the weekend before Easter, and people come from all over. The money helps keep everything running. Twelve years of this tradition. Families. Kids. Community.
We split off to our stations.
Maggie presses the camera into my hands. “You’re gonna do great. Seriously. If you need me, just holler.”
“I think I can handle it,” I say, confidence settling into place.
“Atta girl.”
I head toward my station to start setting up. People will be here by eight, thirty minutes from now.
Then suddenly, fingers wrap around my arm from behind.
“Layla.”
I spin around, brows furrowed. “What?”
Cole stands there, tension rolling off him in waves. “Look… I’m sorry for running off—”
I cut him off before he can finish. “Listen, Cole. I’m here for the summer. I just want to enjoy my time. I don’t want—or need—all this drama.”
I hold his gaze. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m very attracted to you. But I get it. You’re not that into me. And that’s fine.”
I turn to leave.
His hand grabs my arm again.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” he says low, voice rough.
It’s dangerous for me to even be having this conversation with him because all I can think about is his mouth back on mine.
My stomach flips, heat pooling low, but I keep my voice steady. “Yeah, well words don’t mean anything, Cole. I just want a good time.”
I’m just asking for a little respect from him. Not this closed off, hurt, cowboy shit. If all he wants is someone to hook up with no strings attached. I would do that. I’ve laid that out plainly for him.
“That’s obviously all you want,” he snaps back, “since you can barely have a conversation with me.”
I continue, “You kissed me, Cole. And then you took off. I will not be treated that way. I know I’m a bigger girl—but I’m beautiful, and I’m worth more than that.”
His eyes darken. “This has nothing to do with that, Layla.”
“I’ve gotta get down there,” I say quietly.
We stare at each other, long, heavy, unresolved. I wait for him to say something else. Anything.
He doesn’t. He lets me walk away. But I know there's something real under all that roughness, something broken and guarded—but he won’t open up to me. And I’m done trying to pry him open.