Chapter 8
Wyatt
The drive to Springdale with Everleigh beside me in the passenger seat is torture.
If I’m being honest, this entire fucking day has been torture.
Ever since I found her on her bedroom floor wearing my missing button-up shirt, I’ve been so damn screwed up in the head.
It’s the same flannel I wore the night I carried her into her apartment.
She’d thrown up on her own shirt, despite my best efforts to get her to the bathroom in time.
When I tried to find her another shirt of her own to change into, she begged me not to leave her side.
So, I gave up my shirt instead.
I never expected that weeks later I’d find her wearing it—with nothing underneath. Fuck, not even a pair of panties.
“Are we going to talk about this morning?” The question I’ve tried to ask a thousand times since she rode with me out to Stone Ranch hours ago finally lodges free from my throat.
“No.” Everleigh focuses on the Nikon’s screen, scrolling through the dozens of pictures she took at the ranch.
She holds the camera steady, as though it hadn’t caused her to have a massive panic attack this morning.
I hate to think what might’ve happened if I hadn’t let myself into her house after my knocks went unanswered.
I almost turned back to wait in the truck.
But it was Stormy’s incessant meowing on the other side of the front door that pushed me to investigate.
The frozen, silently sobbing woman on the bedroom floor was the same broken version of Everleigh I found behind the wheel of her car last summer.
“Ev—”
“There’s nothing more to discuss,” she says, refusing to look up from the camera screen. “I was having a moment. Clearly, I’m okay now since I didn’t have a complete meltdown taking pictures at the ranch. I’m sorry I attacked you, but it won’t happen again. Let’s just drop it, okay?”
Attacked.
The word taunts me.
Everleigh didn’t just attack me, she pounced on me like a wild, feral animal. If a spam call hadn’t interrupted us, how far might things have gone? I’m willing to bet my hand would’ve been inside that deliciously wet pussy, making her come so hard she left her fucking body.
Thankfully I had a spare pair of jeans in the truck, because I’d have had a hard fucking time explaining the wet spot along my zipper seam. The one she left behind after grinding against my throbbing cock like we were horny teenagers trying to preserver her virginity.
Did I inhale her sweet scent before I stashed the jeans in my gym bag? Of course I fucking did. I’m only a man.
Fuck, I bet she tastes even sweeter than smells.
I’ve considered the possibility that she kissed me without knowing what she was doing dozens of times since it happened.
But each time the internal debate arises, I remember the hungry way she watched me as my lips moved closer to her pebbled nipple.
She arched her back in invitation, as though she’d been craving my touch for longer than she’d ever admit.
Frustration wells in my chest at the easy way she now dismisses what happened this morning, but I swallow it down.
I’ve waited months for her walls to crumble.
This morning, I know what I experienced was a crack in that armor.
I’d bet my savings on it. If I wait this out a little longer, the wall itself will fall away completely.
It has to. But if I push too hard too soon, she’ll reinforce her barriers and shut me out more than she already has.
I won’t risk losing her, especially not now that I’m so close to finally having her for myself.
Even if she wants to lie to herself, I know the truth now—she wants this too.
“Did you get good pictures?” I ask, hoping a subject change will ease the tension in the truck cab.
“Some are good,” she says. “Probably good enough for Macy to get the website up and running. But I’ll need to go back in a couple of days since Gertie was nowhere to be found. Can’t have a website without photos of their star attraction.”
“They should turn the barn into a haunted house for Halloween. Her scream would scare the shit out of anyone.”
“That’s not a bad idea, if they can get her to stay in one place long enough. I wonder if they found her yet.”
“Ryder did, right before we left. She was in the barn loft.”
“The one that can only be accessed by the built-in ladder? How the hell did she get up there?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
The sense of normalcy returns, and the tension in my shoulders uncoils the rest of the way. We live to battle another day. “Did you get any good shots of Birdie?”
“Oh, lots! She’s so photogenic. I wish I had time to print some out for Walter.” She drops the camera in her lap, her expression shifting from bright to grim. “Do you think he’s okay? You said he had a stroke?”
“A mild stroke from what Annabelle heard. I don’t know what that means.”
“It’s too bad we couldn’t just load Birdie up on a trailer and bring her for a visit. I’m sure they’d both love that.”
Everleigh, Macy, Paps, and I debated this topic for half the morning.
Paps was certain a visit from Birdie would cheer Walter up.
But the risk that the man’s shitty grandson might make an appearance made it too risky to bring her along.
If he spotted the alpaca he sold to another farm, I’d have no choice but to take her back.
Leaving Birdie behind at Stone Ranch buys me a little more time.
At least, I hope it does.
I follow my GPS to Shady Pines Rehabilitation Center, bracing for the worst. Folks had less than kind things to say about the facility when I asked about it at The Rusty Nail yesterday. Though I haven’t had time to confirm any of what they told me, none of it sounded particularly comforting.
But when I turn the last corner, I’m pleasantly surprised to see a neatly maintained brick facility with a new sign, freshly repaved parking lot, and bright flowers planted along the building.
Several sugar maples that are no doubt older than many of the residents inside surround the building.
Even they seem well-maintained with the dead branches trimmed back.
“This is Shady Pines?” Everleigh says, leaning forward to peer out the windshield. “Are you sure?”
“I’m as shocked as you are.”
“Let’s hope this isn’t one of those lipstick on a pig situations,” she says as I pull into a parking spot.
Inside, the facility is bright and welcoming in a cozy sort of way rather than clinical.
A woman seated behind the rounded front desk wearing lavender scrubs looks up and offers what appears to be a genuine smile.
For a moment, I’m convinced I’m in the Twilight Zone.
Maybe I’m still passed the fuck out in bed, dreaming this entire morning up.
That would make more sense than Everleigh crawling into my lap sans panties and kissing me like the world was ending.
“Welcome,” the woman whose name tag reads Brianna greets us. “Can I help you find someone?”
“Do we look lost?” Everleigh says, chuckling.
“A little, yes. But to be fair, a lot of people show up wearing that same expression since the renovations were finished. It looks like a whole new place, doesn’t it?”
“Renovations?” I repeat.
“Shady Pines in under new management as of the beginning of the year. The new owner was incredibly motivated to turn things around as quickly as possible. I wish I could say the old rumors were fabrications, but I don’t like to lie.”
The less than stellar reputation Shady Pines has in Emerald Creek makes more sense now.
“We’re looking for Walter Smalley. Is he here?”
“Who’s looking for me?” an older man’s voice calls from one of the sofas set off to the side in a cozy gathering area. One that looks welcoming enough for an afternoon hangout.
“Walter?”
“Sheriff?” Walter’s face brightens as he shifts in his seat and closes a book in his lap. “Am I getting arrested?”
“Do you want me to arrest you?”
Walter pretends to think about it for a moment as Everleigh and I join him, then says, “Nah. They treat me pretty good around here. They won’t let me have my pack, but other than that, they’re alright.”
Brianna shakes her head. “We do allow furry visitors, just not ones the size of horses.”
“Birdie’s no bigger than a miniature horse. Karen and Penelope are smaller still. Surely there’s a loophole? My girls need me.”
“You know if it were up to me, we’d build them a pen in the yard today,” Brianna says, as though these two have had this conversation before. “But I don’t make the rules, Mr. Smalley.”
“How many times do I have to insist you call me Walter?”
“At least once more,” Brianna banters back.
Everleigh’s blue eyes sparkle as she glances away, and I highly suspect she’s planning Birdie’s first official visit.
I just hope we can make it happen. But first, I need to find out who her current owner is and how much it might cost to make a change in ownership for three alpacas.
Not to mention the cost to keep them at Stone Ranch indefinitely.
Ryder’s warned me how tight the budget is.
“Actually, we’re here about Birdie,” I say, taking a seat across from Walter on a floral patterned loveseat.
I pretend not to notice Everleigh glance at the open spot beside me before she chooses to join Walter instead.
Let the woman act as though there’s nothing between us after what happened this morning.
I’m a patient man. Sooner or later, she’s going to break.
I just have to wait her out. Hell, I’ve been doing it for months. What’s a few more days?
“Birdie?” Walter’s expression falls. “Did something…happen to her?”
“Birdie’s alive and well,” Everleigh reassures him, patting his hand with her own.
“What about Karen and Penelope?”
“We don’t know,” I admit.
“I don’t understand,” Walter says, glancing between Everleigh and me.
I let her tell the story of discovering an alpaca in a blue unicorn hat in her garage. Walter seems relieved that she’s the one who bought his old house. He laughs so hard his eyes well with unshed tears when she gets to the part about Birdie trying to invite her inside Everleigh’s kitchen.
“Where did she come from?” Walter asks once Everleigh reassures him Birdie is currently safe at Stone Ranch.
“Bart refused to tell me where he sent them. Said it was better if I didn’t know so I couldn’t try to find them.
” Walter rolls his eyes. “As though I was going to break out of this joint and drive a getaway car to whatever farm he sold them to.” He nods to his left arm.
“This limb doesn’t work anymore, so tell me how I was going to pull off an alpaca heist with only one functioning arm? ”
“I’m not a Bart fan,” Everleigh grumbles, grabbing Walter’s right hand again.
There’s a fierce, protective flare in those blue eyes that makes my dick twitch. Not now, fucker.
“Do you have any ideas where they might have been sold?” I ask, fighting to keep my expression neutral despite the twisting knot forming in my stomach. “Places we can check?”
“I was afraid he sent them halfway across the country,” Walter admits. “But if Birdie made it back to Emerald Creek, I have to assume it was somewhere local. No way an alpaca in a blue unicorn hat would’ve made it hundreds of miles without someone catching her. Or…worse.”
“She’s safe,” Everleigh says, her smile bright and comforting.
Walter’s grim expression livens slightly.
God, I love the easy way she tugs people from the edge of despair.
It’s a secret super power I don’t think she’s aware she even has.
It makes me want to scoop her up into my arms and kiss her until her knees buckle.
“There’s a dozen or more ranches in the area that’d take alpacas,” Walter says. “Karen and Penelope could be at any of them. I’m surprised they didn’t follow Birdie when she ran off. They’re never apart. Not by choice.”
“Bart didn’t give you any hints?” Everleigh asks.
“No. Just a photo of the three of them in their new home.”
“Do you have that photo?” I ask.
Walter pulls it out from his shirt pocket and hands it to Everleigh. “It doesn’t show much more than a generic barn in the background. I don’t recognize the place.”
I make a mental note to research ranches within a fifty-mile radius of Emerald Creek as soon as we get back to town.
It’d be impossible to visit them all myself, but I bet Paps might be able to help narrow it down.
Maybe the Stone brothers and Macy could help us visit the most likely candidates if that’s what it takes to figure this out.
“Walter, do you mind if we borrow this photo for a couple of days? I promise to return it.”
“If you’ll think it’ll help, keep it.”
“Thank you.” Everleigh tucks the photo into her purse then squeezes Walter’s hand. “I’ll keep it safe.”
Now I’m jealous of an old man. Fuck, I hope she comes to her senses before I go full caveman on her. My dick twitches against my zipper, liking the sound of that. Down fucker.
“I hope you find my girls,” Walter says.
“We’ll do our best,” I reassure him.
“Hey Walter,” Everleigh says, brightening her tone, likely for the old man’s sake. “Would you like to see some pictures I took of Birdie this morning?”
“I’d love that.”