Page 5 of Fragile Heart

“Hi Emily,” she says.

“Hey Mallory.” Emily offers a smile. This one, though, doesn’t light her eyes. “There’s three of us tonight.”

She nods and marks something on a laminated sheet and then grabs a handful of menus. As we settle into the table tucked into the back corner of the restaurant, she gives me an odd look, almost like she’s sizing me up.

The girls don’t say anything, though, so I keep my mouth shut. Small towns thrive on gossip. The last thing I need is to end up in the rumor mill sooner than absolutely necessary.

“Is the Rustic Roast still here?” I ask.

Melissa’s eyes light up. “Yeah, Joan still runs it. You remember her, right? Being a grandma has made her even sweeter. We should swing by. I bet she’ll be so excited to see you!”

There my heart goes, lurching again.

“She’s closed already,” Emily says. “But she makes cinnamon rolls fresh every Sunday.”

“I’m excited to have them again,” I offer.

Joan’s cinnamon rolls are one of those things that have stuck with me. They’rethatgood. I steer the subject away from anything relating to Ethan, though, not sure I can keep up my feigned indifference for much longer. I’m exhausted from the drive, and Emily being an Alpha means she’ll pick up on more subtle changes in my scent and body language than Melissa will, even with my scent blockers.

“You still all right with me shadowing you tomorrow?” I ask. “I know I’m not a paid stable hand, but I’d love to help out where I can.”

Melissa nods and pushes her glasses up her nose. “Oh, definitely. The stable hands don’t help with our private horses. I’m happy to show you around the barn. Maybe we can even go riding!”

I manage a smile. “Sounds perfect.”

Chapter Three

CALEB

Ethan doesn’t say a word as he strides into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee maker tucked against the far wall. He’s already dressed to work on the ranch—dark jeans and a black tee overlaid with a light blue plaid flannel. I glance at the microwave’s clock before raising an eyebrow. Ethan never wakes up before six in the morning of his own volition. And certainly not on a damn Saturday.

The ranch is more than successful enough to have hired hands to run the day-to-day, so weekends were spent with the three of us, a leftover tradition from before Kayla and Brandon died that we couldn’t manage to find the stomach to cut off.

“Thought you were letting the hired help run everything today,” I say. “Something happen?”

He nods but doesn’t offer anything more, going through the motions of getting a cup of coffee ready. When he’s added the creamer, he turns toward me, leaning against the counter.

“Dad texted last night saying the stream up north is dry. Need to get the cattle moved closer so they have access to the water troughs until another storm rolls through.”

Ah. He never lets them move cattle without him there. He scowls and takes a long drink.

“Not that I’m expecting anything soon,” he mutters. “This has been a dry-ass lead-in to summer. Not even the spring run-off has been enough to offset it all.”

That’s an understatement. There’s been a handful of fires up and down the range with a particularly nasty one running along the western slope in Colorado. I’m honestly shocked that I haven’t been called into one of them yet. Probably, Sam’s been running interference and calling other pilots first. He knows I’m not hurting for the hours—and every day Camden gets older.

Like it’s been summoned by my thinking, my phone alerts me with a text. I pull it from my pocket, cursing as I set it on the counter.

Official Notice. Report by 1100. Southwest of Boise. Exact location incoming.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

“That the call?” Ethan asks. When I nod, he grunts and pulls out his own phone. “I’ll text Mom and see if she can take Cam for the day.”

A few minutes pass, and then he breathes out a sigh. He takes a drink of his coffee, focusing on me, his gaze inscrutable. I flip the pancakes onto a plate. Ethan is really good at those looks—something he learned from his dad. Sometimes he follows them up with a question, sometimes he continues on with his day. Most of the time, I prefer when he goes on with his day.

“I didn’t realize you went on a date,” Ethan says.

Yep, definitely prefer when he just moves on with his day.

---