Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
WESLEY
I started my morning chores earlier than usual, hoping to dodge running into Sadie.
Last night in the kitchen was an egregious lapse in judgment—one I have zero intentions of repeating.
What was I thinking?
I should’ve walked away. Kept my distance and let her be Emmett’s lost puppy.
But I can’t stop thinking about the cut on her lip.
I didn’t notice it until the day she stomped downstairs demanding we fix the hot water.
Small, but clean. Like someone had hit her.
I tried to ignore it. I really did. But every time I saw her, my eyes dropped to her mouth, unable to look away.
The way she brushed it off—pulled away from me, lying that it was nothing—confirmed my suspicions.
Whatever happened, it wasn’t nothing.
Dad didn’t give any explanation to her being here—only a half-assed mention she’d be coming to work for the summer, and she was mine and Emmett’s responsibility. I know my dad’s always had a soft spot for strays, but he could’ve at least given us a warning.
Maybe that’s what she is. Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell us—because he knew I’d ask questions he didn’t want to answer.
This is the last thing I need: another distraction. A spoiled, out-of-touch rich girl here to play dress-up in cowboy boots until she eventually gets bored and goes home.
I shouldn’t care. She’s not my problem. But there’s something about her I can’t seem to ignore. A pretty girl showing up out of nowhere with a busted lip and an infuriating attitude.
She’s trouble, plain and simple.
And I can’t decide if this is a test—or if I’m just a fucking idiot who’s drawn to fire.
I bring the horses in from the pasture and lay out their breakfast before pulling the group we’ll be working with today.
I’m finishing up my last groom when Emmett’s voice cuts through the still morning.
“Hey! Wait up!” he calls, jogging my way.
Behind him, a blur of blonde hair catches the edge of my vision. I glance over—then look again.
The morning light catches on the small cut on her lip, and the anger from last night flares in my chest before I force it back down where it belongs.
She’s trailing a few paces behind, yawning as she stretches her arms high above her head. There’s a soft sound, half-groan, half-sigh, that hits somewhere low in my gut.
Her tank top rides up under her unzipped jacket, revealing a flash of bare skin right above her jeans. Her braid’s messy, like she didn’t care enough to fix it, a few loose strands clinging to her cheeks.
Her eyes catch mine—green and guarded—but there’s a trace of something softer there that holds me in her web. Then she turns back toward the pastures, leaving me wishing she hadn’t looked away.
I continue brushing my horse, pushing any inkling of a spark out of my mind.
“We’re riding the trail with you,” Emmett says, checking the tack.
He stops beside the calmest horse on the ranch—a shiny dun we usually pair with beginner riders or nervous guests.
“This is Monty.” Emmett runs a hand down the horse’s nose. “He shouldn’t give you any trouble. You know how to ride?”
Sadie nods, stepping closer. “Sort of. My mom used to take me out sometimes when I was younger.”
She reaches up to stroke the space between Monty’s eyes, her touch tentative but sure, like muscle memory.
“Perfect,” Emmett says, clapping his hands once. He gives Monty another pat before moving on to get his own horse ready.
I mount my horse, Falcon, and head to the start of the trail. The sun is beginning to rise behind the mountains, spilling orange light across the sky.
When I glance over my shoulder, Emmett’s seated on Maximus, reins in hand. Behind him, I catch Sadie climbing onto the saddle with practiced ease—posture straight, hands steady and confident, taking control like it’s nothing.
My mouth twitches before I can stop it, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner. Dangerous. I look away, pushing away the warmth in my chest.
I can’t afford that. Not with her.
Falcon shifts beneath me, and I guide him forward, keeping my eyes locked on the horizon instead of the girl behind me.
We’re almost back to the main house when I veer us off the usual path.
If Emmett notices, he doesn’t say anything. He usually doesn’t. Which means he probably already knows exactly where I’m headed.
That, or he’s too busy watching her.
He’s not subtle about it, either.
Every time I glance back, his attention is fixed on Sadie like she’s going to disappear if he looks away. It’s careless. He’s going to make her uncomfortable if he keeps it up.
Or maybe she’s used to it.
I don’t know why that thought irritates me.
They’ve kept a decent distance behind me, far enough that I don’t have to acknowledge either of them. The climb steepens as we crest the hill, and I hear it then—the sharp intake of breath behind me.
I don’t turn right away.
I already know what she’s seeing.
When I finally give in and glance over, I instantly regret it.
The sun is a whisper over the horizon, casting a pink-orange glow and bathing the field of wildflowers in color.
Her mouth parts slightly, and those big green eyes go wide, like she’s trying to take it all in at once.
It’s not just that she’s beautiful—because she is. But not in a poetic way. Just in a way that makes it harder to breathe. Harder to think.
But that’s not the problem.
The problem is me—and that pisses me off even more.
It’s quiet out here. Always has been.
It’s my favorite place. I’ve been coming out here to escape for as long as I can remember. When things got loud. When I needed space. When I didn’t want to explain myself to anyone.
I thought maybe if I brought her here, she could feel it, too. But now I feel completely fucking stupid for thinking that.
My eyes choose that exact moment to risk sliding over to her once more. She hasn’t moved, still staring out into the seemingly endless sea of florals.
She hasn’t mentioned anything specific, but she doesn’t have to. There’s a permanent tension about her—like she’s braced for impact, even when nothing is happening.
I don’t know what broke her, but I can see the jagged edges of it every time I look at her. And baggage just means more trouble in my life that I don’t need.
She glances over then, her eyes catching mine before I can look away again. For a split second, it feels like she sees straight through me and the wall I’ve built between us.
Not good.
There’s still awe in her expression, but it’s guarded now. Careful. Like she’s learned not to reach for the things she wants.
She mouths a silent thank you.
I don’t know what for.
My brow tightens, but I nod once, unsure what else to do. Anything more would feel like encouragement.
I don’t owe her kindness.
I don’t owe her anything.
I’ve been cold since the day she showed up. Distant on purpose. If she thinks this is something else, that’s on her.
Still, as I pull the reins and lead Falcon away, something unsettled twists low in my gut.
Knowing whatever this is, won’t last.