Chapter Five #2
Back in the living room, Earl had removed his western shirt and sat in an undershirt while Dottie supervised my button repair efforts. My first three attempts at threading the needle failed miserably.
"Having trouble, dear?" Dottie's voice dripped with false sympathy. "Not everyone has a knack for domestic arts."
I gritted my teeth and finally threaded the needle. The button itself proved trickier. After jabbing my finger twice and securing the button so it hung at an odd angle, I handed the shirt back to Earl.
"There," I said with forced brightness. "Good as new."
Earl examined my handiwork skeptically. "Well... it'll hold til Dottie can fix it proper. Thank you, Honey."
Dottie pursed her lips. "Maybe if you focused more on traditional skills, Heath might be more inclined to make things official. Men appreciate a woman who can keep a proper home."
Heath's jaw tightened. "Honey's skills in the courtroom are more valuable than her ability to sew buttons."
"Maybe in the capital city of our glorious state," Dottie sniffed. "But out here, practical skills matter. Speaking of which, what are we having for dinner?"
All eyes turned to me.
"I was thinking spaghetti," I said, the first simple meal that came to mind. "With salad and garlic bread."
"Insta-worthy comfort food!" Bitsy tapped on her phone. "I'm watching my carbs, but I'll totally cheat for pasta. #CheatDay #WorthIt"
"I'll help," Heath offered, following me into the kitchen.
As we worked side by side preparing dinner, I set up two pots for the sauce.
"I'll make mine without meat," I explained, separating a portion before Heath added the ground beef to the main batch. "Not everyone likes meat in their pasta sauce."
"You're the only vegetarian here," Heath pointed out, his voice noticeably cooler than it had been this morning.
"Then I'll be the only one enjoying cruelty-free pasta tonight." I chopped extra vegetables for my version, adding mushrooms and bell peppers for substance while he browned the meat for the others.
I couldn't help noticing Heath's increasingly distant demeanor. He worked methodically, responding to my questions with one-word answers as he stirred the meat sauce and checked on the garlic bread.
"Are you okay?" I finally asked, keeping my voice low.
"Fine," he said, not meeting my eyes.
"You don't seem fine. You've barely spoken since Knox arrived."
He shrugged. "Nothing to say."
I put down the knife I'd been using to chop tomatoes. "Is this about what happened this morning? Because if you're regretting it—"
"It's not that," he cut me off. "It's..." He glanced toward the living room where Knox's laughter rang out. "Forget it."
Realization dawned like a slow sunrise. "Wait, you think I still have feelings for Knox? Is that what this is about?"
The look he gave me confirmed my suspicion.
"Heath, that's ridiculous. Knox and I have been over for ages. Well before he and Bitsy got together."
"You didn't answer when she asked you to be a bridesmaid," he pointed out, his voice low.
"Because I was blindsided! Not because I'm pining for your brother." I shook my head in disbelief. "After what happened between us this morning, how could you think—"
The doorbell interrupted my question. Heath brushed past me to answer it.
From the kitchen, I heard Buck Jessup's booming voice. "Evening, McGraw! Thought I'd stop by to check on those investors of yours. Heard they were shopping around."
Great. Just what we needed to complete this disaster of a day.
I wiped my hands and went to the door, where Buck stood with his perpetual smirk. His gaze traveled over me like he was assessing livestock at auction.
"Well, hello there, city girl. Looking mighty fine today." Buck tipped his hat. "Heath, you didn't tell me your lady was helping with dinner. Hope I'm not interrupting."
"Actually—" Heath began.
"Not at all," I interjected with false sweetness. "We were just about to eat. Would you like to join us?" The words left my mouth before my brain could stop them. Heath shot me a look that could have melted steel.
"Don't mind if I do," Buck grinned, stepping inside uninvited.
Heath squeezed my arm. "Can I talk to you for a minute? In the kitchen?"
Once we were alone, he turned on me. "What were you thinking, inviting him to dinner?"
"I was being polite! Isn't that what you country folk do?"
"Not to Buck Jessup," Heath hissed. "The man's been trying to sabotage my business for years."
"Well excuse me for not knowing the intricacies of your rural feuds," I whispered back. "I'll go tell him to leave."
"No, the damage is done." He ran a hand through his hair. "Just... keep an eye on him. He's not here for friendly conversation."
When I returned to the living room, Buck had made himself comfortable, deep in conversation with the Vickerys. Knox was showing Bitsy something on his phone, both of them giggling.
"Honey," Buck called, "come tell me about this boyfriend of yours. Must be quite a fella to have snagged the likes of you."
"Heath is wonderful," I said automatically, the rehearsed line feeling hollow after our kitchen argument.
Buck patted the seat beside him. "Tell me more. Like how you two got together, for starters."
I reluctantly sat, maintaining as much distance as the couch allowed.
"It's not that interesting a story," I deflected.
"Oh, I think it is." Buck leaned closer, his cologne overwhelming—a mixture of leather and something chemical that reminded me of furniture polish. "Quite the unlikely match. Makes a man wonder what exactly you see in ol' Heath when there are other ranchers around these parts."
"That's exactly what I said!" Bitsy chimed in from across the room. "It's like a rom-com waiting to happen!"
"Dinner's ready," Heath announced from the doorway, his expression stony.
Everyone filed into the dining room, where Heath had set out the main spaghetti, my separate vegetarian portion, salad, and bread.
Buck maneuvered to sit beside me, leaving Heath at the opposite end of the table.
Throughout the meal, Buck's knee kept "accidentally" brushing against mine, his hand finding excuses to touch my arm or shoulder.
"So, Honey," he said, voice pitched low as the others chatted, "if things don't work out with Heath, I could show you what real hospitality looks like. My place isn't as fancy as McGraw's, but I guarantee the view from my bedroom window would interest you."
I shifted away. "I'm quite happy, thanks."
"Are you?" Buck twirled pasta around his fork. "Y'all seem a bit... out of sync tonight. Trouble in paradise already?"
"None whatsoever," I said firmly.
"If you say so." He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. "But when you decide you want a man who knows how to handle more than just birds—"
"Buck." Heath's voice cut through the room like a bullwhip. "If you're done eating, I think it's time you headed home."
The table fell silent. Buck straightened, his smile not reaching his eyes.
"Just making conversation with your lady friend," he said. "No harm in that."
Heath stood. "I'll walk you out."
After they left, an awkward silence descended on the table. Dottie dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.
"Well, that was... interesting."
Knox laughed nervously. "Heath never did like sharing his toys."
I shot him a glare that could have frozen lava. The irony of Knox—who'd shared far more than his "toys" with Bitsy while we were dating—making that comment wasn't lost on me.
By the time Heath returned, the atmosphere had grown so strained that everyone made excuses to retire early.
The Vickerys retreated to their luxury RV, while Knox and Bitsy headed to the guest room.
Heath and I cleaned the kitchen in silence, the distance between us feeling wider than the entire 500 acres of McGraw land.
"I don't need you to fight my battles for me," I finally said as we loaded the dishwasher. "I've been handling unwanted advances since high school."
"Buck isn't some frat boy," Heath replied, his voice tight. "He's a threat."
"I'm not some damsel who needs rescuing!"
"No, you're a woman who invited a predator to dinner."
"How was I supposed to know that?" I slammed a glass down harder than intended. "You don't tell me anything! You just expect me to read your mind, to know all the unspoken rules and local gossip."
"You could have asked instead of undermining me in front of everyone."
"Undermining you?" I stared at him incredulously. "Is that what this is about? Your male ego?"
"This is about keeping you safe!" His voice rose. "And about you respecting the fact that this is my home, my business at stake!"
"Right, because this is all just business to you." The words scraped my throat on their way out. "A transaction. I pretend to be your girlfriend, you don't press charges."
Heath's gaze locked onto mine, something raw and vulnerable flashing in those green depths. "Is that all this morning was to you? A transaction?"
The question hung in the air between us, heavy with all the things we weren't saying. It knocked the wind out of me because that's exactly what I'd been telling myself—that the sex was just physical release, that my growing feelings were just Stockholm syndrome in cowboy boots.
But standing there in his kitchen, watching the hurt I'd caused flicker across his face, I couldn't keep lying to myself.
What I felt for Heath wasn't anything like what I'd felt for Knox.
It wasn't the comfortable, predictable attraction I'd mistaken for love.
This was something wilder, something that scared me precisely because I couldn't control it.
Before I could answer, a movement outside the window caught my eye—a shadow slipping away from the house.
"Did you see that?" I asked, momentarily distracted.
"See what?"
"Someone outside the window." I peered into the darkness but saw nothing.
"Probably just a coyote," Heath said dismissively, though his eyes scanned the yard. "They come close to the house sometimes."
We finished cleaning in tense silence. As we headed down the hall to the bedroom, the weight of everything unsaid pressed down on me. The morning's intimacy felt like a distant dream, replaced by this cold reality of misunderstandings and pride.
In the bedroom, we moved around each other carefully, like dancers avoiding collision. Heath took extra pillows from the closet and rebuilt the barrier down the center of the bed. A physical manifestation of the wall between us.
I changed in the bathroom, taking my time, hoping the distance would ease the tension. When I emerged, Heath was already in bed, back turned toward my side. I slipped under the covers, maintaining the careful boundary between us.
"Goodnight," I said quietly.
"Night," came his clipped response.
I lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, listening to Heath's measured breathing and knowing he was just as awake as I was. Both of us pretending to sleep, just as we'd been pretending everything else.
Outside, an owl called into the night, its lonely sound echoing the hollow feeling in my chest. How had we gone from passion to this cold war in less than a day?
More importantly, why did it hurt so much? Knox's infidelity had bruised my ego, but Heath's mistrust cut deeper, like a wound to a place I hadn't realized was vulnerable. And that terrified me more than any deal with the devil I'd made to save my career.