Chapter 5 #2
Oh, my God.
What were the odds of running into someone who might recognize her in a place like Bear Valley? She'd chosen this job, this town, for its remoteness. Because it was the polar opposite of where she'd come from.
She took a step back. "You're mistaken."
The man stepped forward, the smell of beer on his breath hitting her in the face. "No... you're Olivia. Tall, smart-mouthed chef with those killer—"
A hand landed on his shoulder from behind.
Mike.
He stepped between them, casual but dangerous. This was not the carefree, fun-loving man she'd gotten to know. "Problem?"
The guy blinked. "Whoa... sorry, buddy. Just saying hi. Thought I recognized her."
Mike didn't move. "I think she said you were mistaken."
The man raised both hands. "Okay, okay. Jeez." He backed away into the crowd, muttering something about small world coincidences.
Mike turned, eyes scanning Liv's face. She was pale. Frozen. Clutching their plates like a shield.
"Liv..." he said gently, reaching for her arm.
"I'm fine." Her voice trembled. Her hands shook.
"You're not fine."
"I said I'm—" She caught herself, saw his expression, and deflated. "Can we just go sit down?"
He nodded, took the plates from her, and led her over to the bleachers at the far end of the arena overlooking the mutton bustin’ event that was just starting. Kids in oversized helmets clung to sheep like determined barnacles while the crowd laughed and cheered.
It was the kind of innocent chaos that might have comforted her once.
Mike sat beside her on the lowest bench, set the plates down, and waited.
"You okay?" he asked.
Liv exhaled shakily. "I thought I could handle this place. Being out in the open. But I forgot..."
"Forgot what?"
She stared past the arena to the far ridgeline. "That shadows follow. Even in broad daylight. I let myself feel safe in a crowd. Last night, even this morning. And something about that makes me feel reckless. Or stupid."
"You're not stupid." His voice was firm. "You're fighting to stay afloat. And sometimes when you stay too still, the tide catches up. That doesn't make you weak. It means you're human."
She glanced sideways at him. "Why are you always saying the one thing I didn't know I needed to hear?"
He smiled. "Must be the biscuits."
Their eyes met and this time something passed between them. Soft. Warm. Weighty.
"I'm not ready to say everything, Mike," she admitted quietly. "But... you were right on that porch. I am hiding."
“From that drunk guy? Because I can go handle that right now.”
She put her hand on his arm when he started to stand. “No. Not from him. That was a fluke. He just scared me for a minute, and honest to God, Mike, I’m sick and tired of being scared.”
“We all get scared, Cookie. I can still go run that guy off if you want.”
She shook her head, gave a small smile. “But thank you. It means a lot that you’re willing to fight a battle you don’t have a stake in.”
“Oh, I’ve got a stake, Cookie. And one thing you’ll learn about our family. We're good at finding broken things worth keeping and protecting."
"I appreciate that. Even if I can't afford to fall apart right now."
"Good thing we don't charge by the mess."
Liv laughed, surprised that she could, and her shoulders relaxed. For a few seconds, despite the tremor still echoing in her chest, she felt tethered again.
He placed his hand over hers.
"In this family," he said, his voice low and firm, "we don't run. Not from each other."
Liv turned her hand to intertwine her fingers with his.
For now, it was enough.
Out in the arena, Charlotte bounced in her saddle as Noodle the sheep trotted into position. The announcer called her name, and the crowd whooped.
"She's fearless," Liv said softly.
"Gets it from Heather," Mike replied.
The gate opened. Noodle bolted. Charlotte clung to his wool, helmet askew, grinning like she'd just won the lottery. The sheep bucked. Charlotte held on. Three seconds. Four. Five.
Then she slid sideways and tumbled into the dirt.
The crowd gasped.
Charlotte popped up, arms in the air, dirt smeared across her face. "Did you see that? I stayed on forever!"
The crowd erupted in cheers.
Liv felt something crack open in her chest.
She wanted this. This lifestyle that was so foreign to her This man who promised her she could lay all of her troubles at his feet and he’d slay her dragons.
Her future was so iffy right now. She had a life in New York. A business that had thrived before she’d abandoned it to save her life.
Would there eventually be something to go back to?
Would she even want to?
Back at the ranch that evening, Mike found Joe in the main office, laptop open, face lit by the blue glow of the screen.
"You got a minute?" Mike asked, closing the door behind him.
Joe looked up. Took in his brother's expression. "What happened?"
"Some drunk idiot at the rodeo called Liv by a different name. Olivia Langford. She shut down. Wouldn't talk about it."
Joe leaned back in his chair. Didn't look surprised.
"You knew," Mike said flatly.
"I suspected." Joe turned the laptop so Mike could see the screen.
Public records. Sparse. A social security number that had only been activated two months ago.
“Her name doesn't exist online, Mike. No social media.
No restaurant reviews. No culinary press.
Nothing. That's not normal for someone who supposedly owned a bakery in Manhattan. "
The door opened without a knock.
Kenny stepped in, arms crossed.
"You recognize the guy at the fairground?" Joe asked him.
Kenny nodded. "Tony Driscoll. Owns a bed-and-breakfast out toward Stillwater. Travels a lot. Talks more."
"He a threat?"
"Not him. But his mouth is."
Joe typed something into his search bar. Paused. "Kenny?"
"I know," Kenny said quietly. "She's not who she says she is."
"But something tells me she's not running from something she did," Joe said, fingers still on the keys. "She's running from something done to her."
The brothers exchanged a look, quiet understanding passing between them.
Mike scrubbed a hand over his face. "So what do we do?"
"We find out who's looking for Olivia Langford," Joe said. "And we make sure they don't find her here."
Out on the porch, Liv sipped chamomile tea while Heather rocked beside her. The stars blinked above. The crickets harmonized with the wind brushing through the hay fields.
At the fairgrounds she'd tried to pretend nothing had happened, that she hadn't been shaken to her core. But the Watkins family were an astute, watchful bunch. Almost by silent communication, every one of them had circled around her. Not to ask questions. Just to be there.
Liv had no experience with that kind of family closeness.
Heather didn't speak at first. Didn't need to. Finally, she asked, "Want to talk about it?"
Liv sighed. "Someone called me by my real name today."
Heather didn't flinch. "Is that the name you're hiding from?"
"I think so. I've gotten used to being Liv Ramsey. It feels safer than who I really am."
"I don't need to know the details unless and until you want to tell me."
"I'm not a criminal," Liv said quickly. "I swear."
"I believe that. I also believe you were scared today. And rightfully so. But you're not alone anymore."
Liv looked out across the land she was learning to love. "Thanks, Heather."
Mike appeared then, carrying a flannel blanket over one arm. "Scoot over."
He dropped the blanket across both their knees and settled in beside Liv, his shoulder brushing hers.
They sat in silence for a while. Crickets and cicadas harmonized in the trees. One of the horses nickered in the barn off in the distance.
Liv's phone was still in her pocket. Powered off. Hidden.
She could tell them. Right now. Just say it.
I got a text last night. Someone knows where I am.
Her mouth opened.
Mike turned toward her, expectant.
And the words stuck. Lodged somewhere between her ribs and her throat. Because if she said it out loud, it became real.
And if it was real, she'd have to leave.
"I'm glad I came here," she said instead. Quiet. True.
Mike's hand found hers under the blanket. "I’m glad you did, too. You doing okay?" he asked.
"Getting there. I'm sorry I put a damper on the festivities today."
"Don't be ridiculous. Drunk cowboys are enough to shake anyone up."
She glanced at him. He knew it was more than a drunk cowboy that had shaken her up. The fact that he wasn't pressing her for more details made her want to curl right into him and let him fight all of her battles.
But she couldn't do that.
"Just so you know," he said, voice low and rough, "to protect my own, I'd walk through hell barefoot and not think twice."
Liv's throat closed.
"I'm not yours to protect," she whispered.
His hand tightened on hers. "You're sitting on my porch. Wearing Heather's boots. Making biscuits in my kitchen at five in the morning." He paused. Looked at her. "You're already ours, Liv. Whether you're ready to admit it or not."
Liv didn't say anything.
But she didn't let go of his hand.
And Mike knew, right then, that protecting her wasn't a choice anymore.
It was a promise.
One he had every intention of keeping.
Even if he didn't know what, or who, he was protecting her from.