CHAPTER 27
Knox drops the speed as we pull into the main street of Sierra Valley, the town stuck somewhere in the past with its decaying signage and uneven roads.
Despite the worn-down look, it’s vibrant in a way that modern cities lack.
There’s character etched into every storefront, pots of flowers in front of windows, little bistro tables set up outside of bustling cafes.
There are more people here than I thought there would be, especially after so much time on the ranch where I’ve seen the same few faces day in and day out.
He pulls up to a building next to the town square, where an old clock sits on an island in the center of a fountain, its stone basin worn smooth.
Benches encircle it, looking either toward the mountain range or the park, which I’m sure was once lush and green when money could be spent on its upkeep.
Now the grass is brown, burnt from the sun, with patches and overgrown hedges at the borders.
A lone dog walker throws a ball for their pet, and I watch as the black and white dog sprints off to catch it.
“It wasn’t like this,” Knox says, his arm resting on top of the steering wheel. “From April to September, there wasn’t a spot spare to stand in.”
“I can picture it,” I agree.
I don’t need to ask what happened.
The Rossis, funded by the De Lucas.
Guilt weighs down my gut, but I mask it, keeping it hidden.
Turning away from the neglected park, I look at the building Knox is parked in front of. The simple signage shows it to be the town post office, and from what Knox already told me, he has to collect his mail twice a week since they have no workers able to make it to the ranch to deliver it.
“Wait here.” He glances at me, and I nod, watching him climb from the cab and fix his hat onto his head.
He looks good in his dark wash Levi’s, his shirt tucked in, the oversized belt buckle something I always thought would look ridiculous but on him…
fuck. From the open window, I hear the heel of his boots clip against the ground, his body filling out those clothes to perfection.
He greets an older couple walking toward the fountain and then dips into the building, disappearing from view.
With him gone, I sink down into my chair, making sure the rim of the hat is fixed in a way that it covers most of my face, and watch the sidewalks.
No one looks my way; there are no shady men in suits, no watchful eyes.
It just is. Everyone is comfortable here, smiling, laughing, drinking their coffees on those wrought iron bistro tables.
There are several stores with boarded windows, gone out of business, and others with repairs needed to broken glass and wonky doors.
There’s a mix of stores, a boutique, a hardware store, some cafes and diners and a single grocery store.
A woman sells hand-cut flowers from a wagon, and a younger couple walk hand in hand toward the cafe.
So simple.
So normal.
The mountains add a dramatic backdrop to this little town time forgot.
Knox steps out of the building with a pile of mail in his hands, flipping through each envelope before he separates one from the stack. The envelope is thicker, whiter and more luxurious against the thin paper of the bills and debts I’m sure are in the other hand.
At the car, he climbs in behind the wheel and hands it over to me, the scrawl across the front both familiar and unknown at the same time.
I lay it on my lap, both desperate to see what’s inside and nervous.
“You’re not going to open it?” Knox pries.
“Not right now.”
There must be something on my face, something in my expression, because he doesn’t press it further as he tucks his stack of letters into the compartment on his door and backs out of the spot.
“I want to take you to lunch.”
My head snaps around. “What?”
“It’s a quiet place,” He says. “At this time there won’t be many people there, but we don’t have to.”
I swallow thickly. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say no, to refuse and demand he take us back to the ranch after his stop at the grocery store, but it dies when I look at him.
There are no expectations, but there is determination.
“Okay.” I whisper.
“Yeah?” He grins.
“Yes,” I accept, but I reach for his arm. “It’s safe?”
“With me, you are,” He vows.
A loud honk of a horn startles us both, forcing Knox to pull onto the road only to travel to the other end, barely a two-minute drive.
He parks in front of a diner that has a faded awning jutting out from the top of the windows and a door that doesn’t quite close.
He switches off the engine and climbs from the car, rounding the hood to open the door for me, offering me his hand to help me from the cab.
In my head, I saw every set of eyes turning to us as we entered but in reality, no one even flicks their attention to us as we make our way through the diner that smells like fried food and coffee to a table in the corner.
I take the seat facing the window while Knox sits opposite, leaving him with the view of the whole restaurant.
A woman sidles up to us almost immediately after we take our seats, her uniform stuck somewhere in the eighties, but she has a bright smile and pen and paper ready to take our order.
“Just drinks for the minute,” Knox tells her gently.
“Of course, Mr. Carter,” The girl smiles. “What can I get you?”
He looks to me to answer first.
“Just a coffee,” I tell her.
She scribbles it down and faces Knox, who gives her the same answer before she scurries away, and Knox turns his focus to me. Unease works through me though no one is paying us any attention.
“Relax, darlin’,” Knox pushes his boot against the side of mine.
“Easy for you to say,” I grumble.
He leans back in his chair, throwing an arm behind him to hook it on the back, a grin tugging up one side of his mouth. He’s the picture of ease, but I won’t lie and say the view isn’t good, not with the sun shining at his back and the mountains jutting toward the sky like rocky, sentient guards.
“Keep looking at me like that, Hellion, and I’ll take you in the back of the truck, really get the locals talking.”
I run my tongue along my bottom lip. “Don’t make threats you can’t follow through on.”
He chuckles darkly, “It wasn’t a threat, it was a promise, and I’m a man of my word.”
I press my thighs together just as the waitress returns with our coffees and her pad. I haven’t even looked at the menu, but Knox fills in, ordering us both the burger with fries. Shifting in my seat, I turn my eyes away from him to the windows.
A familiar blonde head of hair catches my attention.
The vet strolls toward the diner, dressed in actual clothes today.
Her jeans sit high around her trim waist, the blue and white pinstriped shirt tucked in with a large gold belt buckle and beige boots.
Her hair is pulled into a ponytail, sunglasses covering her eyes.
Immediately my spine straightens.
I’m a possessive woman; I always have been. I don’t share, and I don’t like people touching my things.
Knox has been mine since the moment he pulled me out of the barn, even if he didn’t know it yet.
The little bell over the door jingles with her entry, and Knox’s eyes move to the sound before he curses under his breath.
“Everly,” He greets her with a flat tone as she steps up to the table.
“Knox,” Her sunshiny voice has my molars grinding. “I was meaning to call you. How’s Ralph?”
My finger taps against the table, my eyes staring right at those mountains.
“Doing better,” He replies.
“I’ll swing by this afternoon.” Her hand touches his shoulder, the gesture disguised as being friendly, but the way she practically strokes the man suggests otherwise. I’d like to break every single one of her fingers. “Get those bandages off.”
“Sure,” Knox agrees.
“Hi Elena.” Her voice sing songs toward me before she shifts back to my cowboy. “See you later.”
When she’s gone, I remain still and unmoving, glaring at nothing at all.
“Don’t start, Elena,” Knox grumbles.
I flick my gaze to him, quirking a brow. “We’ll see.”