Page 15 of Fragile Heart

She doesn’t seem convinced, but she doesn’t push me, either. “To be honest, I’m shocked it’s Calder that made the first move,” she says, a little of her wry tone coming back.

I scratch at the tattoo behind my ear before running my hand through my hair.

“Who did you think it would be?” I ask.

“Brody,” she says without hesitating. “He’s in the far back corner, chatting with the Baileys.”

Without even looking over my shoulder, I know it’s not someone I’m remotely interested in knowing. The Baileys have been on my metaphorical shit list since I lived here ten years ago. I pretend to gag, and she laughs.

And then the first name she mentioned catches up to me.

“Calder?” I ask. “As in Calder Dean?”

That small bit of guilt I felt for not accepting the beer bleeds out of me. Like hell do I want anything to do with him. Or his brother.

Melissa hums before taking a long drink.

“Yep.”

The one word conveys an entire lifetime of conflict. The Deans—and the Baileys—hate Melissa. Technically, they hated her dad. But small town politics meant that that hate transferred to her as if she was the original aggressor.

Devynn turns to the wall of liquor, and I chance a glance down the bar. The man’s laughing, his head thrown back. He’sa far cry from the lean teenager he’d been the last time I’d knowingly seen him. He’s bulkier now, the last little bit of youth gone from his face.

After a moment, he throws down cash onto the bar top and then joins that same group of guys Melissa mentioned. I just manage to duck my head as they focus on where we sit.

“Trish quit,” Melissa says, her voice quiet and somber. Then she slams the rest of her drink, emptying the cup in a single gulp. Devynn glances over, an eyebrow cocked, but turns back to the woman in front of her.

I frown. “Why?”

Trish has been the office manager for Misty Mountain since Melissa owned it with Brandon. She loves the ranch just as much as Mel does. She’s not the type of person to just suddenly quit.

Of course, neither am I, and yet I’m sitting here in Creek Falls with my best friend rather than a condo in the heart of Denver.

“Her mom called. She’s apparently been sick for a while but didn’t bring it up. To Trish, I mean. She didn’t tell Trish she was sick.” Melissa traces the rim of her drink. “Stage three lung cancer. It’s really bad. Trish was a mess.”

Oh no.

“I told her she can have the job back if she ever wants it, no questions asked. But she’s not sure how long she’ll be gone.” Melissa sighs. “Emily and I talked it over. I’ll take over the day-to-day things, and she’ll juggle the larger items. If it becomes too much for the both of us, then we’ll see about finding someone new.”

Her lips curve down, and she bites at her lip again, betraying her nerves. I bump her shoulder with my own.

“I’ll take over the animals,” I say.

She has an amazing staff that cares for the trail horses at Misty Mountain. But she takes care of the chickens and goats—and her personal horses. She tenses like she’s going to fight me, so I grab her hand and squeeze it.

“It’ll keep me busy.”

The resistance fades away from her, and her shoulders drop. “All right.”

A man sits down beside me, and Devynn turns to him. Her posture changes, though it’s subtle. Her shoulders stiffen, and the corners of her mouth gain a tension that tightens her smile. Whoever this guy is, he doesn’t have a fan in Devynn. Men who piss off bartenders aren’t anyone I want to hang out with.

Just as he’s turning toward me, his intention clear in the set of his shoulders and practiced smile curving his lips, I stand from the stool and drag Melissa with me.

“Let’s get going.”

She doesn’t argue, letting me pull her from the bar before the guy manages to say a single word to me.

Chapter Eight

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