Chapter 18 #3
“If it isn’t my favorite Morrow boys,” Lydia coos, poking her head up. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Shitshitshit.
“She wasn’t at the main house or the barn, and she’s not answering her phone,” Wesley says, voice taut with irritation. “Have you seen her?”
“It’s so nice to see you too, Wes,” she says, leaning her elbows on the counter. “Tell me, while you’ve been playing stalker, did you ever stop to ask yourself if Sadie wants to be found?”
“Oooh, burn!” Emmett laughs.
Lydia smiles sweetly. “I’ll tell her you came by.”
“I’m sure you will,” Wesley growls, and I hear what I can only assume are his irritated footsteps stomping away.
I clutch my chest.
Emmett clears his throat. “I don’t know what’s crawled up his ass lately. He needs to get laid. Pretty sure he hasn’t hooked up with anyone all summer. Maybe longer. Celibacy does not suit him.”
Lydia quickly glances down at me, smirking. “Hm. That’s funny. I wonder what prompted that decision.”
I shake my head and drag my finger across my throat, mouthing, drop it.
She doesn’t.
Lydia has—not so subtly—hinted that she thinks Wesley is secretly into me, and that’s why he’s been extra broody. I think she’s lost her mind.
“You and Sades coming to Lucky’s with everyone tomorrow night?” Emmett asks.
“Absolutely,” Lydia says proudly. “Sadie is on the hunt. I’m on wingwoman duty.”
My soul exits my body and I strongly consider giving up my hiding spot to tackle her to the ground.
“Good for her!” Emmett says, too enthusiastically. “You should convince her to ride the bull again. Guys were feral that night. She was so hot. Everyone was jealous of Lane. What a fucking shithead for ruining that.”
Heat crawls up my neck.
There’s no way in hell I’m getting back up on that bull, but something blooms in my chest at the thought of being the reason all the guys are turned on.
“Don’t drool on my bar top, Morrow,” Lydia says in a clipped tone. “I didn’t realize you had such a hard-on for her.”
“Hey—I’m not drooling,” Emmett says defensively. “I’m not going to cross that line. I’m just saying what everyone thought. She’s obviously attractive. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it. But we’re friends. Plus, even if I wanted to, she’s off-limits.”
My breath stutters. Off-limits.
Is that how Wesley sees me, too?
“So if your dad didn’t have the rule,” Lydia presses, “you’d shoot your shot?”
I silently beg her to stop.
This is torture. Slow, scorching torture.
“What? No.” Emmett groans. “Are you even listening to me? She’s off-limits and I wouldn’t want to jeopardize our friendship.”
“Hm, interesting. Do you often find yourself befriending people you’d like to penetrate?”
“Fuck, Lyd. Why are you laying into me like this?” Emmett breathes out an exasperated sigh. I picture him running his rough hand down his face in frustration.
She shrugs. “It’s a simple question.”
“No, Lydia, my desire to penetrate someone doesn’t factor into my decision to form a friendship with them,” he says flatly before quickly switching back into his playful tone. “But I will say, if I played for the other team, I’d absolutely try to seduce Landon.”
“Eww. That’s my brother, you sicko!”
Emmett’s chuckle eases all the tension. “What can I say? He’s a handsome fella. Plus, I’ve seen what he’s packing, so—”
“Nope. That’s enough. I’ve officially reached my limit of you today. Go away. Be annoying somewhere else.” Lydia waves a dish towel to shoo him.
After tending to a few customers, because she actually has a job she’s supposed to be doing, she crouches down again. “Sooo, I have a message for you from a gentleman caller.”
“Oh, I heard, and that’s the furthest thing from the truth.” I roll my eyes. “But Emmett gave me an idea.”
“Never a good sign.” She sighs, sitting down and crossing her legs on the dirty bar mat in front of me. “What’s the idea?”
“I think I found a loophole. A way around Heath’s rule while also not just hooking up with some random guy.”
Lydia shakes her head, frowning. “I don’t like where this is going. Don’t say it.”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, holding back a grin “Technically, I’m not an employee, right? But I’m also not a guest. So, it wouldn’t be breaking the rule if I hypothetically…chose Landon—”
“Oh my God, NO! You’re actually insane if you’re seriously considering fucking my brother! No. Nope. Not happening.”
“It was just an idea,” I mumble.
“A terrible idea that should never have been shared. Landon is not what you need, honey. I promise you.”
I sigh and rest my head against the cabinet. “Okay, yeah. Maybe you’re right.”
“Oooh, say it again. I liked it.”
“Fine. You win.” I roll my eyes. “Looks like your wingwoman services are still needed tomorrow evening.”
“I am at your service.” She winks and gives a mock salute.
“What in the hell are you doing, girl?”
A deep, gruff voice cracks through the steady rhythm I’d forced myself into. The bale in my arms slips, thudding hard against the packed dirt. My heart lurches, breath catching as I spin around to find Heath in front of the breezeway.
He’s standing there, brows raised, hands braced on his hips like he’s trying to physically hold down the disbelief radiating off him.
“What?” I manage, yanking out one earbud, my pulse pounding.
Iris darts between us in a dark blur, chasing poor Ozzy in the opposite direction.
“I asked just what in the hell you’re doing,” Heath repeats, gesturing between me and the rows of bales I’ve been dragging across the yard with my bare hands.
“Uh…moving the hay bales?”
He exhales through his nose, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I can see that. Is there a particular reason you’re not putting them up in the hayloft? Or do you just like doing extra work?”
My stomach drops. “What do you mean?”
“That hay’s already baled and dried. It goes in the loft, inside the barn—where it belongs.”
I look at the bale by my boots. At the stacked mountain I’ve been dragging across the yard all day, blister by blister. I’m sweat-soaked, sunburnt, and exhausted.
The realization clicks into place slowly, one agonizing piece at a time.
That fucking asshole.
Heat torches its way up my chest, blooming across my neck, my cheeks, everywhere. I’ve been working in nothing but a tank top for hours and suddenly I feel suffocated—hot from the inside-out.
My jaw locks, my eyes sting, and a single, shaky breath leaves me.
“Sadie, are you alright?” Heath’s tone shifts, softer now, the voice you’d use with a feral animal you’re trying to keep calm.
I slowly open my eyes, turning to tell him what a dick his son is—and there he is.
He’s walking toward the barn with Falcon’s reins in his hand, hat backward, hair damp from sweat, shirt clinging to him just to torture me. His eyes lift at the sound of my boots on the dirt.
And I don’t think. I don’t breathe. I don’t care.
I march right up to him, not stopping until my palms find the solid wall of his chest, and I shove—hard. Harder than I intended. Hard enough that he actually stumbles a step back.
“Jesus Christ,” he bites out, catching himself. “What the hell—”
“You are such a fucking asshole.” The words rip out of me, raw and shaking. “What did I ever do to make you hate me this much?”
My voice cracks, trembling with the effort to hold in the hot, angry tears that desperately want to pour out. I don’t even know why his opinion matters so damn much. I just know that it does.
Something softens in his eyes and his voice drops low.
“What do you mean? I don’t hate you.” He glances at the bales.
Then Heath. Then me. His jaw goes rigid, the way it does when he’s trying not to react.
Not to show emotion. “Sade—fuck. I didn’t think you’d actually…
” His voice fades, a glimmer of regret flickering in his eyes for half a second.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was just messing around. ”
“Yeah?” My laugh comes out broken, flat. “You’re a real shit comedian.”
“I thought you knew,” he says quietly. “I was looking for you at lunch. I would’ve—”
“Bullshit.” My arms fold tight across my chest, as if they can hold me together. “This isn’t a joke or a game to me. I keep my head down. I do the work. You push me away? I stay away. Why would you—” The sentence fractures in the middle, betraying me. A hot tear falls before I can blink it away.
His fingers tighten around Falcon’s reins but he stays still—watching me with that unreadable, heavy look that’s been haunting me, like there’s so much he wants to say, but won’t.
Heath steps in, voice gentle again. “Alright, why don’t you go take a break, honey? Head over to the lodge. Wes will load all this up where it belongs.” He shoots Wesley a lethal glare.
I nod once, wiping my cheek, and I turn before either of them can see my face crumble entirely.
My boots carry me toward the main house without looking back, but I can feel Wesley’s gaze following me—and I hate that part of me wants to turn around and meet it. Heath calls out for me, but I don’t look back.
They are never going to take me seriously.
They are never going to see me.