Chapter 18 Sedona
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sedona
“Do you feel better?” Clara asks, her voice a gentle hum over the clatter of plates and the hiss of the grill at Daisy’s.
I nod, taking another bite of the huckleberry pie. The sweet-tart explosion on my tongue is a small, perfect comfort, a moment of peace in a world that’s been anything but.
“I am,” I say, and it’s not a lie. The pie helps. The company helps. “I’m glad you made us come here after we couriered those samples.”
If it had been up to me, I would’ve been on a plane back to New York by now. But Clara, with her fierce, unwavering logic, had stopped me.
She’d reminded me about the estate, the legal tangles of my father’s will, the rental car still sitting in Billy’s driveway like a ghost.
She’d reminded me that running away without looking back would just create more messes, more ghosts to haunt me later.
“More tea, dears?” Daisy Mae is there, her warm, motherly presence a balm. She’s holding a heavy ceramic pot, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
I nod, pushing my cup forward. “Yes, please, Daisy.”
She pours, the fragrant steam rising to meet me. As she moves away, I turn back to Clara, my voice dropping. “I have to break up with Cole.”
Clara reaches across the table, her hand finding mine and giving it a firm, supportive squeeze.
“Honey,” she says, her voice full of a knowing sympathy. “Do you understand the concept of unwinding? No men talk today. That’s the rule. We eat pie, we drink tea, we plot our return to civilization. That’s it.”
A small, genuine smile touches my lips. “Okay. No men talk.”
“Good,” she says, beaming. “Just a couple of weeks. We get this all sorted, and then we’re back in New York, where the only cattle we have to worry about are the ones on our pizza.”
“Thank you, Clara,” I say, the words feeling inadequate. “For everything.”
“Hey,” she says, shrugging as if it’s nothing. “I know you would do the same thing for me.”
“Of course I would.”
I watch her eyes go round, her gaze fixed on something over my shoulder. Her playful expression freezes.
“Uh,” she says, her voice suddenly tight. “We might have to put the no-men talk on hold.”
My stomach clenches. “Why?”
She nods toward the door, a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture. “Because Seth just walked in here. And he looks like he’s coming our way.”
I look up, my heart giving a nervous little flutter. He’s standing just inside the diner, his eyes scanning the room. When they land on our booth, he starts moving, his strides long and purposeful.
He looks… harried. There are new frown lines etched around his mouth, and his hair is more disheveled than usual.
He stops at our table, his scent—wild clover and fresh-cut wheat, with an undercurrent of something sharp and metallic, like sweat—washing over me.
“Ladies,” he says, his voice a little breathless. “Glad I caught you.”
“We were just heading home,” I say, the words coming out too fast, a clear attempt at dismissal. “Did you need something?”
He lets out a deep, shuddering breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Can I sit?” he asks, his eyes pleading. “Just for a minute.”
I can’t say no. Not with that look on his face.
“Yes,” I murmur, moving over to make room in the booth. He slides in beside me, his presence a warm, solid weight that makes my skin tingle.
Clara, ever the perceptive one, jumps right in. “You look like you’re running a marathon. Is everything okay with the cattle?”
Seth shakes his head, a faint, tired smile on his face. “No, nothing like that. The cattle are fine. Just… a long day.”
Daisy Mae appears, placing a mug of black coffee in front of him without even asking. “Here you go, Seth. You look like you need it.”
“Thanks, Daisy,” he says, his gratitude genuine. He takes a sip, his eyes scanning the table. “What are you having?”
“This is the famous huckleberry pie,” Clara says, her tone bright and cheerful, a deliberate attempt to ease the tension. “It’s life-changing. You should get a slice.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, his gaze flicking back to me. There’s an intensity in his eyes that makes my breath catch.
Clara clears her throat, sliding out of the booth. “You know what? I’m going to use the washroom. I’ll be right back.”
The moment she’s gone, the air between me and Seth changes. It becomes charged, heavy with all the things we’re not saying.
I turn to him, really looking at him now. Up close, I can see the dark circles under his eyes, the tense set of his jaw.
He smells of sweat and hard work under his usual clean scent, a primal, masculine smell that makes my skin prickle with an awareness I don’t want to feel.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask, my voice soft.
He swallows, the motion of his throat visible. He takes a long swig of his coffee, his hand trembling slightly around the mug.
“I’m fine,” he says, but the word is unconvincing.
“Are you sure?” I press, my concern overriding my desire to keep my distance.
He sets the mug down with a soft clink. He looks at me, his brown eyes, usually so warm and steady, now filled with a raw, vulnerable panic.
“Well,” he says, his voice barely a whisper, “I thought you had left town.”
I pick up my tea cup, the ceramic warm against my fingertips.
The delicate clink as it touches the saucer is the only sound I can focus on for a second. I take a sip, the chamomile doing little to soothe the frantic hummingbird beating against my ribs.
I set the cup down and look at him—the desperate, wild look in his eyes, the slight tremor in his hand as he reaches for his coffee mug.
“So you ran here?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says. No explanation, no excuse. Just a raw, honest admission.
“Why?”
The question hangs between us, heavy and charged. He doesn’t answer right away. He just looks at me, his gaze so intense it feels like a physical touch.
His eyes drop from my eyes to my mouth, and the air in the booth suddenly feels thick, electric. I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks, a blush I can’t control.
“Because,” he says, in a low, rough murmur that sends a shiver down my spine, “if I knew you were leaving town… there’s almost nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you here.”
My breath catches. The world narrows to the space between us, to the raw, unguarded emotion on his face, to the way his lips form the words.
This is more than concern for the cattle. This is more than brotherly affection. This is something else entirely, something dangerous and thrilling and terrifying all at once.
I have to break the spell. I have to bring it back to something safe, something professional.
“Your cattle will be alright, Seth,” I say, my voice a little too high, a little too tight. “I promise. The samples will give us the answers we need.”
He shakes his head slowly, his eyes still locked on mine. “It’s not the cattle I’m worried about.”
And then he does it. He reaches across the table, and his thumb brushes over the back of my hand. The contact is light, almost incidental, but it sends a jolt through me that is anything but.
I’m static, a live wire, my entire body focused on that one small point of contact. The rough callus on his thumb against my skin, the warmth of his touch, the scent of him—wild clover and sweat and something uniquely Seth—fills my senses.
What is going on? What is he doing? What am I doing?
The sound of footsteps approaching the table breaks the spell like a splash of cold water. Seth pulls his hand back as if he’s been burned, and the moment is shattered. Clara slides back into the booth, cheerful and oblivious.
“What are we talking about?” she asks, her eyes bright with curiosity.
Seth doesn’t even miss a beat. He looks at Clara, then back at me, his expression shifting from raw vulnerability to a determined resolve.
“I’m talking about what I have to do to get Sedona to stay in town.”
I can’t help it. A small, watery smile touches my lips.
I’m tamping down a storm of emotions, a whirlwind of confusion and fear, and a tiny, treacherous flicker of something that feels dangerously like hope. I pick up my tea cup again, needing something to do with my hands.
“I still have to deal with my father’s estate,” I say, my voice a little more composed now. “I’ll probably leave again after that’s all settled.”
“The town needs you, Sedona,” he pleads. “And so do we.”
He means his brothers. He means the pack. He means him.
I swallow hard, the lump in my throat back with a vengeance.
He seems to sense my hesitation, my weakness. He leans forward.
“I’m glad you’re still around,” he says, and then a wry, almost sad smile touches his lips. “Just a heads up. The next time you see Tex or Billy, they might have bruises.”
“What?” I ask, completely confused. What does he mean?
He doesn’t elaborate. He just slides out of the booth, standing up and pulling a few bills from his wallet to leave on the table.
“I’ll be seeing you around, Dr. Archer,” he says.
Then he turns and walks away, leaving me staring after him, my tea cup trembling in my hand.
The moment he’s out the door, Clara lets out a squeal that’s so loud it makes a couple at the next table jump. She grabs my arm, her eyes wide and sparkling.
“What the hell was that?” she whisper-yells, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated glee.
Honestly, I’m not sure either… but I think I might be attracted to Seth.
And I think he might feel the same way.