Chapter 14
Betty
I’d barely noticed the shift from spring to summer. How did April become July first? The heat and humidity are stifling. The air is so thick, it’s like a wet blanket smothering you the moment you step outside.
Typically, this horrid weather makes me never want to leave the air conditioning of my home, but the past few months have been magical. Perhaps when we allow ourselves to be happy and live life to the fullest, the little things that typically stand out to us simply disappear.
Tugging at my thin linen top, the fabric already sticks to my skin.
It’s the week of the Summer Explosion in Cole County, so it’s been an insane rush of tourists and preparations at the Miller house.
Tate and I decided to add two cabins, which has taken more of my time than I had to spare overseeing construction during rodeo season.
We hadn’t expected so many to want to stay here, and it’s proven to be a great stream of revenue for the ranch.
Fortunately, the competition night isn’t until next weekend, but Gary and Rhonda Miller will be coming into town for the festivities that span the Fourth of July. What they don’t know is we’ve planned a surprise dedication ceremony for them. They’re wonderful people and deserve all the praise.
The extra responsibilities at the ranch have made it nearly impossible for me to keep up with multiple shifts at the bar.
Jim finally hired some additional staff, so I’ve been able to spend fewer nights there, which meant more time with Ward.
Speaking of which, he’s the exact reason I’m late.
The man insisted on showering together, which meant my hair got wet, and then I had to blow-dry and style it.
My brother is going to kill me. Once a week, we meet for lunch, and I’ve blown him off for the past few weeks because of my schedule. But there is nothing Beckett hates more than someone being late.
Sweeping my limp hair off my shoulder, I wave as I shuffle past the receptionist’s desk in his office building. It’s one of the newer miniature skyscrapers here in Carruthersville. A structure that speaks of the type of businesses that own or rent space here.
It’s a mad dash through the hallways once I jump off the elevator, stopping at Beckett’s office door to find a woman seated behind his desk.
Chocolate-brown eyes meet mine as she looks up from her paperwork. “Hi, can I help you?” Her voice is firm, but with a southern twang more pronounced than mine, confirming she’s not from here. Honestly, she reminds me of River. No-nonsense with that shrewd stare and straight mouth.
“Um, this is my brother’s office. Beckett Hughes?” I stay outside the doorway as if nervous to cross the threshold. There’s no way I’m remembering wrong. I’ve been coming here for the past five years.
“Oh. Oh my goodness,” she stands from her desk, straightening her cream pencil skirt. “You’re Beatrice.” She stops in front of me, extending her hand for me to shake. “It’s so nice to meet you. Beckett talks about you all the time.”
“Hi,” I laugh nervously.
“Apologies, I’m Harper Brookes, the new estate lawyer here at the firm. I just moved to town. Beckett gave me his office and moved down the hall. I can show you.”
“Thank you.”
Beckett had mentioned that a new lawyer was joining the firm. He hadn’t said anything more, and I hadn’t asked. So much about his career flies straight over my head, so I don’t even bother trying to comprehend it. He loves what he does, and that’s good enough for me.
“Knock, knock,” Harper cracks her knuckles against the doorframe.
The office is bigger than his previous one, with more filing cabinets and a massive bookshelf filled with law volumes along the wall. “Hey, Beck. Sorry, I’m late.”
“No worries. Seems you met Harper here,” he gestures, still scribbling across his legal pad.
“I did. Are you ready for lunch? I’m on a little bit of a time crunch.” For good measure, I glance at my watch.
Without even meeting my stare, my brother hands me his card. “Better idea. I’m swamped with the ranch stuff. Take Harper to lunch, on me.”
My heart sinks a little. It’s been weeks since I had time alone with Beckett.
I may have canceled on him over the last few weeks, but he has never canceled on me.
Whatever he’s working on must be super important.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised since he, too, is now involved with Boulder Ranch as their tax lawyer.
Turning to face Harper, I give her my best Betty smile. “Well, looks like it’s us then.”
Together we move down the hallway, waiting for the elevator in silence.
It’s not until we step foot out on the sidewalk that she speaks again.
“This weather is so much more stifling than in Alabama.” Her long, delicate fingers fan her face as if that will provide any reprieve when the heat and humidity mix like this. It won’t. You’ll only sweat more.
It’s a short walk to the cafe that Beckett and I usually go to. The small talk flows effortlessly before we enter the tiny restaurant. The conversation remains surface-level, but is comfortable.
Entering The Villa Cafe is like stepping into what I would assume an upscale coffee shop looks like in a big city.
I’ve never been in one, so I can only make that assumption based on movies.
The interior is alive with chatter, clinking silverware, and the lingering scent of Brazilian coffee.
They say we’ve become caffeine addicts, and that couldn’t be truer.
Harper leads us to a two-seater by the front window. Beckett and I always sit near the back as he’s terrified someone will recognize him and interrupt our lunch, asking for legal advice.
“This place is so cute,” Harper chirps.
“Yeah, we come here a lot.” Glancing over the menu, I mentally slap myself. I already know what I’m going to get. It’s the same every time. Maybe that’s your problem, Betty.
For once, I study the menu harder. It’s so hot outside, I can’t imagine eating anything I would consider comfort food, yet my eyes pause on the meatloaf sandwich. I’ve never tried it, nor does it sound appealing, but it rattles my insides. Meatloaf is Nash’s favorite.
“I’ve been eating nothing but takeout, so I should have a salad,” Harper says absently, “But a loaded BLT sounds scrumptious.”
I can only stare at her, absorbing her accent. Everyone has always told me how strong mine is, and I never really heard it until I listened to someone else. “Where did you say you’re from again?”
“Oh, yes. The suburbs of Alabama. Grew up in a super uppity neighborhood, went to an Ivy League college, then to law school, married our family friend.” My eyes go wide at her words.
“Oh, no. Nothing crazy. He’s only three years older than I am.
Anyhow, we got married, I did all the things a southern belle wife from money should do,” she sighs heavily as if recapping the past exhausts her.
“Then we had my daughter Ainsley. She’s eight.
I wasn’t happy, so I got divorced, and here I am in a new city where I don’t know anyone and am trying to do things all on my own for the first time at the ripe old age of thirty-nine. ”
My jaw hangs loose, surprised this stranger just told me her entire life story as if it were nothing.
But looking back, I shouldn’t be surprised.
It’s always been that way. The Betty everyone has always known was always the person people could talk to.
They could tell me their secrets, fears, hopes, and dreams, and know I would never judge, but listen and absorb every word.
“Wow,” I breathe. “That’s…” I try to find the words so I don’t sound rude.
Harper waves me off with a nonchalant huff. “Yeah, it’s fine. My daughter and I are happy with the move.”
“What made you come to Carruthersville?” I ask as the server places water in front of us. We quickly give our orders, and then she focuses those big eyes back on me.
“It was the only law firm I got an offer from,” she shrugs. “I applied to all sorts of places, but I was a lawyer who hadn’t used their law degree in thirteen years. Fortunately, they took a chance on me.”
“Well, welcome. I’d be happy to introduce you to some of my friends.”
“Maybe. It’s a little tough being a single mom now.
There’s no one but me to watch my little angel.
” A soft smile pulls at Harper’s full lips, her sharp, layered bob swaying with the tilt of her head.
She is by far one of the most stunning women I’ve seen.
Tall, with high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes.
“I understand, but if you ever need a break, I’m happy to help, and my mother has worked with kids her whole life. We always had tons of them running through the house, so she’d be happy to help too.”
“You’re a gem,” Harper says, squeezing my hand.
Our conversation flows from there. Harper is an open book, telling me all about her family and her friends back home. It’s like we’ve known each other for years, cackling over the craziest things as we devour our lunches, both of our plates clean in the end.
“My goodness, I’m so full,” she leans back in her chair, wiping her mouth. “That sandwich was too large when I’m wearing a skirt this tight.”
A laugh bursts out of me as I cover my mouth, before she sits up a little straighter, her eyes raking down someone behind me. I can feel their heat, and before I even turn around, I know who I’ll find.
“Betty, we need to talk,” Nash all but growls, pulling up a chair from a nearby table.
Harper’s on her feet in seconds, her brows arched high as if assessing what type of mess I might be in. “No, please. Take mine. I need to get back to the office. Betty, I’ll call you.”
“Bye, Harper. See you this weekend.”
Nash pulls out her seat and watches her leave before sitting down with me. “I tried calling you.”
“For?” The word comes out clipped, but I have to protect myself against him.
I don’t want to sound snippy, but I’d been having fun.
My little broken heart was finally mending with him, mostly keeping his distance.
It became easier each day not to look back when I wasn’t constantly seeing his handsome face or experiencing the way his voice vibrated through my chest and shot straight down to my core. I’m happy…
“Did I need a reason?” His tone is incredulous, and I want to slap him as much as I want to kiss him.
Dammit. His presence is undoing all the work I’ve done to move on.
“I have to go.” Instead of waiting at the counter to pay, I slip some cash into the portfolio and turn to leave.
I’ve been successful at avoiding Nash unless it was in a group setting.
He still stayed at the cabins every time he was in town, but with the system I implemented, there’s no need for me to see him.
I keep the main house booked with others, so he never has the chance to be that close to me, and it’s worked. I’ve started to heal.
“Betty, don’t walk away from me.” Nash follows me outside. The clap of his boots only urging me to move faster.
Spinning to face him, he stops abruptly, our chests so close they brush with my deep inhale. “Why? We’re not friends. According to you, we’re not anything more than old acquaintances. We can continue to live our lives the way we used to and pretend nothing ever happened.”
His jaw works as he stares me down on the sidewalk. “You know I don’t want to be your friend, but I…” There goes that defeated tone again. The one that begs me to forgive him without speaking the words, but is unwilling to cave on his own.
I have no fight left. I’m so tired of this rollercoaster that is loving Nash Donovan. Why wouldn’t he just let me go if he doesn’t want me?
“Give me one good reason I should keep talking to you, Nash. You know this hurts, yet you keep coming back to gut-punch me again and again. Why?” My voice cracks. It’s just cruel of him to keep doing this to me, and I’m an idiot if I allow it to keep happening.
He has the decency to flinch at my words, reaching for me only to drop his hand. “Because I’m not going to watch another man touch you.”
And I don’t know whether to scream or cry, so I do the only thing I can and walk away.
Rearview mirror, Betty. Rearview. Mirror.