Page 15 of Came the Closest

It’s all I register before Milo’s eyes widen and he launches himself halfway onto my lap. My hand lands on his back instinctively, but then I freeze. Milo looks up at me with a lopsided grin, and he presses a finger to his mouth in the universal shh sign.

Against all better judgment, I pull Milo fully up onto my lap. Curving my arm around him, I tuck his head below my chin when I hear Indi’s footfalls approach the doorway.

“Is Milo out there with you?” she asks.

I glance over my shoulder. “Nope. You’ll have to go fishing.”

The joke makes Milo burst out laughing, completely blowing his cover, but a smile tugs at the corners of my own mouth. Indi marches out onto the deck with her hands on her hips, her tank top wet from giving Milo his bath, and she launches into a scolding. It wobbles around the edges because he looks up at her with puppy eyes. I know she’s biting back a smile, but when she holds out a hand, Milo slips down from my lap.

I wish I didn’t miss the weight of his tiny body there. It would be a whole lot easier to explain my reasons to Indi if I wasn’t so torn up inside.

NOTE SCRIBBLED TO INDI FROM COLTON ACROSS THE BREAKFAST TABLE ON THURSDAY MORNING:

You won’t get me to change my mind. He’s a good kid, Blue, but he can’t be my responsibility.

TEXTS BETWEEN INDI & COLTON ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON:

Indi: If you say yes, I’ll let you call me Blue.

Colton: No

TEXTS BETWEEN INDI & COLTON ON FRIDAY NIGHT:

Indi: At least tell me you’ll think about it?

Colton: No

Indi: Please?

Colton: I’ll think about it

Indi: You’re not just saying that?

Colton: You asked me to tell you I would think about it so I told you I’d think about it

Indi: COLTON.

Colton: I’ll have an answer to you by tomorrow night

Chapter Six

A Bookstore Meet Cute

Cheyenne

Wildflower Acres Book Shoppe smells exactly like its name implies—of soft, fragrant blooms to press your nose to, and of creased, inky pages to lose yourself in.

I step through the pale pink front door, hitching my tote higher on my shoulder, and a delicate bell chimes over my head. Sunshine bathes white shelves filled with novels in buttery golden light. Near the front windows, three bistro tables have pink cushioned chairs tucked underneath them with vases of wildflowers on top. Display tables feature authors of the month and book club invitations. Behind the counter, Ember Bryant lays the novel in her hands aside to greet me.

“Hi,” she says brightly. “And welcome to the Wildflower Acres Book Shoppe. You’re Cheyenne, right?”

Whether she remembers that from when she and Graham came to the ranch last summer or because she knows my history with Colton, I’m not sure.

“That’s me,” I say with a nod, my thumb twisting the hem of my sweatshirt. “I haven’t been here before, but it’s beautiful. I love the chandelier.”

Ember glances at the glass fixture shaped like ornate stacks of books with fondness. “Oh, thank you. My parents surprised me with it before my grand opening last year. It’s my favorite—along with all the books, of course.” She laughs self-deprecatingly. “Sorry. I tend to ramble around new people. Not that you’re new, but—Never mind.” Her slender shoulders lower and she lifts her chin. “Are you looking for anything specific?”

I smile, already feeling more welcome here than most places in Chicago. “Not really. Just something to read over the weekend. I read romances, I like mysteries, and I’ll never say no to a good book of poetry.”

---