Page 8 of Wrangled Love

Heath smirks, putting his hat on his head as he stands. “You’ve got it, sis.” He leans down to kiss my forehead. “I’ll call Jensen and share the good news. You won’t regret this.”

I want to believe him.

But something tells me I might have signed up for more than I bargained for.

Once Heath gets in his truck and leaves, I take out my phone to call my best friend, Charlie. I sigh when it goes to voicemail. She’s probably with a customer or taking her lunch break. Sheowns Timeless Threads, a vintage boutique in town where she gives secondhand clothes and home decor a new lease on life.

Briar: Why aren’t you answering?! It’s an emergency.

Charlie: What kind of emergency?

Charlie: Are we talking about a “ran out of Cheetos” kind of crisis, or a “your vibrator ran out of batteries” kind of disaster?

Briar: What’s the difference?

Charlie: One can be fixed with a snack run. The other requires a glass of wine and some elbow grease.

Charlie: If it involves a stray animal, a tractor, or you trying to DIY your bangs again, I’ll need coffee first.

Briar: Your emergency contact status = pending review.

Charlie: The number you’re trying to reach is no longer in service.

Briar: Wow. Abandoning me when I’m in crisis mode.

Charlie: Better spill what’s so urgent before the next customer comes into the shop to argue with me over the price of a vintage vase.

Briar: Jensen Harding found out he has a five-year-old son, and they’re staying in Bluebell for the summer.

Charlie: And that’s an emergency because…

Briar: Heath said they could stay at the cottage with me.

Charlie: That son of a Mama Julie.

Charlie: Do I need to come over and bring a shovel? I think there’s one in the storage closet.

Briar: That escalated quickly.

Charlie: I just looked up Jensen.

Charlie: He’s hot.

Charlie: And a tech whiz.

Charlie: At least when he moves in, you’ll never have Wi-Fi issues again.

Charlie: Oh, and according to the internet, he’s rich. Do you think he has one of those black credit cards that’s super heavy?

Briar: Upon further review, your emergency contact status has been revoked.

Charlie: You tell me he’s not good-looking in a three-piece suit.

A photo pops up of Jensen in a charcoal suit, standing in front of a skyscraper with his hand in his pocket and an unreadable expression. It’s hard to believe this sharp-dressed businessman was once a cowboy, wearing boots and flannel, with dirt under his nails, who spent his summers working on the ranch.

The longer I stare at the image, the harder it is to look away.Aren’t tech geniuses supposed to wear graphic tees, have bedhead, and squint through smudged glasses? Not look like a walkingForbescover. It’s criminal that he could be brilliantandridiculously attractive. No wonder he left Bluebell after high school. It’s clear city life has treated him well.

Charlie: Busy setting the photo as your new wallpaper?

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