Page 11 of Falling Hard for the Billionaire Cowboy

"I'm so sorry, honey," she says, her face falling. "We're all booked up. Tourist season, you know?"

The last of my energy drains away. I can't even sleep in my car – it's still broken down on the side of the road. With a jolt, I realize I haven't even called a repair company. My thoughts have been too scattered.

I excuse myself, stepping outside to try my parents one more time. "Please, for the love of Pete, pick up this time," I whisper, pressing the phone to my ear.

The first attempt is met with silence. On the second try, it starts ringing. And then, miraculously, I hear my mom's voice.

"Hayley? Sweetheart, is that you?"

Suddenly, I'm a little girl again, fighting back tears. "Mom? I... I'm here, back home. I went to the ranch, but..."

We switch to video call, and seeing their faces – tanned and relaxed – makes my heart ache. They confirm everything Austin and Santiago have told me. They'd sent me an email about selling the ranch, not wanting to bother me during my final year of law school. But in my whirlwind of classes and studies, I must have missed it.

The guilt intensifies. I can't bring myself to tell them I've quit my job and come home for good. Because there is no home anymore.

I choke back tears without them noticing and ask about their trip. They're in Hawaii, living their dream. And, like Santiago, they sing Austin's praises.

"If you need a place to stay, I'm sure Austin would let you use the cottage behind the main house," my mom suggests.

Annoyance flares in my chest. Why does everything have to revolve around him?

After saying goodbye, I return to Santiago, who is leaning against his car.

"No luck?" he asks, though he clearly already knows the answer.

I shake my head.

"Well," he says, "looks like you're coming home with me. Marcella will be thrilled to see you again."

I start to protest, but Santiago won't hear it. "Come on. It's late, you're exhausted, and my wife would kill me if she found out I left you with nowhere to go."

Finally, I relent.

Santiago's house is a whirlwind of activity. Four kids and three dogs swarm us as we enter, their excited voices filling the air.

"Dad! Dad, look what I did!"

"Dad is back!"

"Daddy did you buy anything!"

"Charlie, give me back my book!"

But as soon as they see me, the children's screams settle, their eyes widening with curiosity at the sight of a stranger.

"Kids, this is Miss Hayley. She went to school with your mom and me," Santiago explains.

Marcella appears from the kitchen, and I am thrilled to recognize her from our high school days. She envelops me ina warm hug as if no time has passed at all. She was in my chemistry class if I remember.

Warmth and the mouthwatering smell of homemade tamales fill the house. As we sit down to eat, I nearly cry at the first bite – I hadn't realized how hungry I was.

Conversation flows easily around the table, the kids asking non-stop questions about life in the big city.

"Is there a lot of horses over there?"

"When I'm big, I'm also going to go to the city."

"Why are there…"

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