Page 94 of Wrangled Love

Although I wanted to bring it up, I decided to hold on to one more carefree night without heavy conversations and difficultdecisions. Instead, I chose to enjoy our evening under the stars, pretending we didn’t have a care in the world.

But I know avoiding the subject any longer will only lead to regret. Which means we have to talk soon, no matter how much I fear the outcome won’t be in my favor. Now I just need to find a time when Jensen and I are alone.

This morning, I had an early start with cabin maintenance and was out the door before Jensen went on his run. A family is checking into cabin one today, and I had to replace a light fixture that keeps shorting out.

It’s nearly noon when I’m finished, and I swing by the general store with a crate of supplies to drop off, including coffee grounds, tea bags, and a few jars of local honey for the welcome baskets that Ethel swears are the reason the five-star reviews keep rolling in.

The last thing I expect to see when I walk in is Ethel perched on the counter next to the pastry display, legs locked around Earl, and the two of them making out like teenagers. Despite the bell chiming above the door, neither of them notices me. They’re too busy putting on a PDA performance worthy of a reality dating show.

Ethel runs her hand down Earl’s chest, and when it drifts dangerously southbound, he groans. I whip my head away so fast I almost drop the box in my hands.

I stumble backward, open the door again, then slam it shut more forcefully than necessary. Yet I still don’t get any acknowledgement that I’m standing here as they round to second base.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I clear my throat loudly. “Should I book you two a cabin?”

That gets Ethel’s attention, and she glances my way with a lopsided grin.

“Hey there, sweetie.” She waves. “Don’t mind us. Earl’s gotthe stamina of a stallion, and our romp at my place this morning wasn’t enough to tire him out.”

“That’s right, darlin’.” Earl chuckles. “Can’t keep my hands off you, even if I tried.” He gives her another kiss before stepping back to look at me. “Heard the city slicker finally staked his claim. I knew you two would be an item.” He wags his finger at me.

“He might be heading back to New York soon,” I reply, sidestepping the question as another knot twists in my stomach.

“You sure about that?” Earl asks, grabbing a chocolate donut from the case and taking a big bite. “Saw the city boy in town last week wearing boots, Wranglers—the whole nine yards. That getup won’t make it five blocks in the big city.” I can’t help but giggle, picturing Jensen strutting around New York, hat tipped low, as people give him curious glances.

“No, it wouldn’t,” I agree.

I’ve fallen for the version of him that belongs in Bluebell—dusty boots, cowboy hat, and worn-in jeans. The thought of him in his three-piece suit back in his high-rise office makes my heart ache.

Ethel approaches Earl, running a red nail along his collar. “Darling, stop pestering Briar. You have a pickup at the bank in thirty minutes. Why don’t you get going so you’re not late? We’ll finish where we left off at my place tonight.”

“Alright, doll; you’ve got yourself a deal. Just don’t start without me.” He winks.

Earl brushes his thumb over her cheek, stealing one last kiss before grabbing his hat that must have fallen to the floor during their impromptu rendezvous. On his way out, he tips it in my direction.

“If the city slicker had any sense, he’d see what’s right in front of him and never leave.”

He’s not the only one hoping Jensen decides to stay.

“You’re too sweet, Earl. Drive safe.”

He might have a heart of gold, but I wouldn’t want to be the passenger he’s picking up. Let’s hope he doesn’t have any flower bed massacres or trash can mishaps today.

Once he’s out the door, I carry the box I’m holding over to the counter where Ethel and Earl were getting frisky a minute ago.

I smirk at Ethel. “So… Earl’s a stallion, huh?”

She watches him drive off through the window with a sigh. “Let’s just say he’s got stamina that would put a racehorse to shame.”

I snort, covering my mouth. “Well, that’s an image I won’t be able to unsee.”

“Honey, at my age, pleasure’s a limited-time offer, and I’m not about to waste it on knitting and decaf.”

I admire her confidence. She owns her sexuality and isn’t shy about her desires or her relationship with Earl. They don’t bother with labels, but they seem content, so who am I to judge?

I envy her ability to be unapologetically bold, not caring about the consequences. Me? I’m tangled in a no-strings-attached situation with a man I’m falling for but am too afraid to voice my feelings. When did my life get so complicated?

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