Chapter 9
“Why in the hell are you going to Texas?” Liam asks, already halfway through his first cup of coffee like he’s been waiting to start this interrogation since sunrise.
I snort into my mug, not even trying to hide the smirk. “There’s an extreme bronc riding event in Fort Worth I want to check out. I reached out to the Cowboy Channel, and they’re helping me set up some interviews.”
He narrows his eyes like I just told him I’m entering a cage fight.
“Okay. But why couldn’t you drive yourself to Sheridan at three in the damn morning like a normal lunatic?”
I grin. “How else am I supposed to get quality time with my favorite cousin?”
Liam grunts, clearly unimpressed but also not denying it. “You’re lucky I like you.”
I take another sip of coffee. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”
He levels me with a look. You know, the kind only family can give. The kind that sees through the caffeine and charm and straight into the mess I’m trying to bury under logistics and rodeo interviews.
“You running from something?” he asks.
I pause for half a second too long.
Then smile. “Nope.”
He watches me for a beat, then nods slowly. Doesn’t believe me for a second. But he lets it go. For now.
“When you coming back?” Liam asks, too casual to be casual.
I cringe into my coffee. Damn it. I forgot Liam has a sixth sense for slicing straight through the bullshit. I should’ve asked Sam to take me. Except then I’d risk him calling Will to do it, since we’re both in town, and that was a door I wasn’t ready to open.
“Phern?”
I clear my throat. “I’m not sure.”
His head swivels toward me like I just admitted I was moving to Mars.
“What in the hell does that mean? How long is the event?”
I keep my eyes on my mug, swirling what’s left like it might save me. “The event’s just two days.”
He doesn’t blink.
“But…” I add, hedging, “I’m also planning on doing a little sightseeing.”
Liam snorts. “Right. Sightseeing.”
I don’t mention fact that I’ve packed more than just rodeo boots and a press badge. Because the truth is, I’m not running. I’m reaching. For something that feels like mine. For space. For air.
“Heard you went on a date with Trey,” Liam says after a beat, shifting gears.
“Two,” I correct, because even now I can’t help the smart-ass reflex.
“Well,” he says, sipping his coffee slow, “will there be a third?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. We’re just friends.”
He raises a brow. “You sure? He seems nice.”
“He is nice,” I say. “But he’s not it.”
Liam doesn’t ask who is.
He just nods once. “Well, at least you know what isn’t it.”
And somehow, that lands harder than anything else he’s said all morning.
Liam pulls up to the curb at the airport, truck idling as I sling my duffel over my shoulder. The morning’s still cool, but the nerves buzzing under my skin make me feel like I’m burning from the inside out.
“Promise you’ll text when you land,” he says, putting the truck in park.
I nod, grinning as I unbuckle. “Only if you promise to text me back and tell me how it’s going with Olive.”
He groans. “You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”
“Nope.”
I hop out and shut the door behind me, adjusting the strap on my bag as I step toward the terminal. The air’s thick with goodbye, but I keep my head down until his voice stops me cold.
“You better come home, Phern. This place won’t be the same without you.”
Just like that, something cracks open in my chest. A tight ache rises, misting my eyes, but I won’t let the tears fall. I offer him a small smile.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m not done with this town yet.”
With a wave to Liam, I turn and head inside. But I barely make it through the door before I stop short and blink. Twice.
Will’s standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight. Looking somehow both irritated and distractingly hot.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice catching.
He exhales through his nose. “Sam sent me.”
“To the airport?”
“To Texas.” He gives me a look like it should be obvious. “Said you didn’t need to go alone.”
My jaw drops. “I’m twenty-eight, not eight. I’m more than capable of going to Texas alone.”
He shrugs, unbothered. “Not here to argue, kiddo. Just here to keep you company and stay out of your way.”
But the way his eyes linger on mine, like he’s got about a hundred unsaid things simmering under the surface? Yeah. That doesn’t feel like "just company", even if he’s throwing around kiddo again.
We don’t say much as we make our way through security, just the occasional brush of his shoulder against mine. Every time it happens, my body goes rigid, like it remembers things my mind keeps trying to forget.
At the gate, Will drops into the seat beside me and stretches out like he owns the place. I sit stiffly, arms folded, heart pounding like I’m about to do something reckless instead of fly to Texas.
When they call our group, he stands and waits for me to move first.
“You always this quiet on planes?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood, even though my voice is too thin to pass for casual.
“Only when I’m trying not to say the wrong thing,” he mutters.
I glance at him. “And what would the wrong thing be, Will?”
He looks at me and his jaw clenches. “Anything I want to say to you right now.”
My stomach flips, but I don’t respond. I just keep walking.
We board in silence. I take the window seat, because I need the illusion of control. Will slides in beside me, his thigh brushing mine as he settles. He’s warm. Solid. A constant reminder of everything I’m trying not to feel.
The plane takes off, and for a long time, we sit without speaking. The silence stretches, heavy with everything unsaid. Outside, clouds blur past, but inside, it’s the weight of his presence that messes with my pulse.
Then, halfway to cruising altitude, his voice slices through the quiet like gravel and heat.
“We gonna talk about what you saw from the window?”
I turn to him slowly, my breath catching. “I don’t know. Are we going to talk about what you saw?”
His laugh is quiet, dangerous. More vibration than sound. “Oh, sugar…” He leans in, his lips inches from my ear. “I could tell you every detail of how it felt, watching you like that. But I think you already know since you saw what it did to me.”
My skin prickles, heart hammering.
“That,” he murmurs, “was me thinking about you.”
And suddenly, it’s not the altitude making it hard to breathe.
It’s him. Every word, every slow, deliberate inch closing the space between us.
The air’s too thin, the seat too small, and all I can think is: if he keeps talking like that, I won’t survive the rest of this flight without doing something irresponsible.
By the time the plane touches down in Texas, I’m more than ready to put distance between me and Will. But he’s right there through baggage claim, through the doors, like a shadow I can’t shake.
The Texas heat slams into me the second we step outside. It’s thick, dry, and unapologetic. It doesn’t just wrap around me. It grabs hold and clings to my skin like a dare, like it’s testing me to see if I’ll wilt or rise.
Fort Worth smells like dust, like scorched earth and hot pavement but there’s something wilder underneath.
Horses. Cattle. Sweat. Leather. Grit. The scent of lives lived hard and loud.
It’s not just heat. It’s history. It’s defiance.
The kind of weight that seeps into your bones and settles there, reminding you exactly whose ground you’re standing on.
This isn’t a place that welcomes softness. It’s the kind of air that knows how to buck and doesn’t care if you hold on or not.
The drive to the hotel isn’t long. It’s boutique and charming in that effortlessly curated way.
Wrought iron details, soft golden light, pillows that look hand-stitched by someone’s stylish grandmother but probably cost half my rent.
It’s the kind of place that whispers stay awhile and makes you want to linger in the lobby just to admire the wallpaper.
It’s nice. And in the back of my mind, I file it away.
Because something like this? It would be perfect in Broken Heart Creek.
I make a mental note to tell Bonnie the next time we talk.
Her aunt, Ruby, has been threatening to retire from the B&B for the last two years, and when she finally does, Bonnie’s going to inherit a relic and a headache since Missy doesn’t want it.
This hotel is the blueprint for what Bonnie could do.
Something fresh without losing the soul.
Maybe that’s what I’ll do while I’m here.
Steal a little inspiration. A little space. A little clarity.
But that plan crashes and burns the second the front desk clerk says the words that ruin everything.
“Here’s the key to your room. If you’d like turn-down service for the bed, please let us know.”
“Bed?”
The woman nods. “Yes, ma’am. One king-size bed. Is that a problem?”
My breath catches. “Well, can’t he just rent another one?”
The woman offers an apologetic smile I immediately want to slap off her face. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re completely booked. Everything in the area is, to be frank.”
Of course it is.
Will sighs beside me, dragging a hand through his hair like this is all just mildly inconvenient. “It’s fine. Come on, Phern.”
“No, it’s not fine.”
But I follow him anyway. Through the lobby, into the elevator, and up to a room that might as well be a ticking time bomb. Every step is an argument I don’t say out loud. Every breath, a reminder that I’m about to be stuck in close quarters with the one man who gets under my skin just by existing.
One bed. One night. One chance to not unravel.
God help me.
So, I do what I do best. I pretend nothing’s bothering me.
I toss my bag by the door and flash a smile. “See you later.”
Will arches a brow. “Whoa now. Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“The bronc event starts in an hour.” I look in my purse, rummaging for my press pass like it’s suddenly fascinating.