Chapter 76
EMMA
We’re deep into Lily’s story about that mare, her breech foal, and the emergency C-section at two in the morning, her hands moving, her eyes bright, when she stops mid-sentence, her gaze shifting to something over my shoulder. Her expression changes, shuttering.
"What?" I ask, starting to turn.
"No. " She grabs my arm to keep me facing forward. "Cole Turner just walked in."
My stomach drops. Of course he did.
I don't turn around. I force myself to take another sip of beer and keep my expression neutral. "Is he looking at us?"
"He's at the bar, ordering a drink," she says, staring past me. She pauses, then her eyes dart back to mine. "He saw us."
My heart thuds in my chest, which is ridiculous. We’re in public, in a crowded room. Other than Jake’s arms, this is the safest place in the world. "Is he coming over?"
"No." Lily's voice is calm, but there's tension in her shoulders. "He's just sitting there."
I risk a glance.
Cole Turner is perched on a barstool, one elbow on the bar, a whiskey in front of him. He's dressed casually—jeans, a button-down shirt, boots, like he’s a regular guy.
But he's watching us.
He’s not overtly staring. His gaze flicks to our booth, then away to his phone. Then back again, casual, like he's simply taking in the room.
Only I can feel the weight of his attention.
"You want to leave?" Lily asks quietly.
"No." I hold my glass. “So you were telling me about that mare.”
We try to go back to the conversation. When Lily finishes the story, she asks about my photography. I ask about her clinic.
But I can't focus.
Well, I can focus—just not on my friend. I’m plenty focused on Cole. He orders another whiskey. Checks his phone. Laughs at something Hank says. He looks completely at ease, like he's just a regular guy having a drink on a Friday night.
Except every few minutes, his gaze drifts to our booth. Just there—watching.
"Emma." Lily's voice is low. "What's going on with you and Cole Turner?"
I take a shaky breath. "His brother wanted to buy the Circle H. He was, um, persistent."
"Persistent." Lily's tone is flat. "Is that what we're calling it?"
I shrug. “I thought since Eli, um, disappeared, Cole would take his place and try to convince me to sell.”
“But?”
“But he’s been less pushy than Eli.” I frown. I’d have expected just the opposite. I’d have thought Cole would be even more unsettling than his younger brother.
Cole finishes his second whiskey and signals Hank for another. He's in no hurry. He's settled in for the evening, it seems.
Is that a threat? Or am I reading too much into it?
Maybe he's just a businessman having a drink. Maybe he’s just looking to make a buck. Maybe I'm the one making this into something it's not. After all, what has he actually done? Made an offer on my property. Showed up at a public bar.
That's not a crime.
Eli was the one who assaulted me. Eli was the one who made explicit threats—and Eli is gone.
Cole has been nothing but professional. Polite, even.
Maybe my father's accident was just that—an accident. A tragic, terrible accident on a wet road.
Maybe I'm connecting dots that aren't there.
So why does my skin crawl every time I feel Cole’s eyes on me?
I down the rest of my now warm beer and push the glass away. "I think I'm going to head out.”
Lily slides out of the booth. “I’ll go with you.”
"You don’t need to,” I protest, putting my jacket on.
"It’s been a long week. There’s a bath with my name on it at home," she says with a smile.
We put enough money to cover the beers and a good tip on the table and walk out. Deliberately not looking at Cole, I wave to Hank as I pass, keeping my stride casual and unhurried.
I can feel Cole's gaze following me all the way to the door, but I don't look back.
Outside, the cool night air hits my face, and I realize I've been holding my breath. I hug Lily good night and climb into my SUV, locking the doors immediately.
As I leave the parking lot, I glance back at the Rusty Spur. Through the window, I see Cole still sitting at the bar, his back to me now, his attention on his phone.
Like I was never there at all.
Like he wasn't watching me for the past hour.
Have I been overreacting? Building a narrative that doesn't exist?
Maybe.
But as I drive home through the darkness, I can't stop checking my rearview mirror. And I can't stop thinking about the way Cole looked at me—calm, patient, like he had all the time in the world.
Like he knew something I didn't.