Page 30 of The Billion Heirs Boxed Set
I haven’t gone back to Millie’s.
Millie’s Diner, where I was having lunch when… when I was taken.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll go.”
I remember the scent of greasy French fries. The feel of the sticky fake leather bench seat. And more.
“Oh?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’ll go to Millie’s soon. Sometime within the week if I can. I’m strong enough. And once that’s done, I’ll begin researching places to relocate because Austin Bridger’s going to want nothing to do with me now that he’s learned about the broken Carly Vance.”
“Carly…”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Lake.” I glance at my watch. “I have to go. I’m going to be late for work.”
Lexie gives me some better tasks today, thank God, but not before she gives me the pitying look and asks three times if I’m okay after last night. She had a front row seat to that disaster.
I assure her I’m fine, and then she shows me how to take the livestock’s vitals and record everything on an iPad. We take the ATVs out into the fields and walk up to the Herefords as they graze. It’s hot, and my hat may shield my face from the sun, but it’s sweaty work. That keeps me busy until lunchtime, and I know just where I want to spend the hour.
Right at the edge of the Bridger property is a small freshwater spring. Whether the Bridgers actually own it, I don’t know. I stumbled across it when I first returned to Bayfield after my year of intensive therapy.
Walking was my solace then, and though at first I was a bit fearful of being alone, I got over my qualms quickly, especially in a place like this. It gave me time to think, and I ended up strolling miles and miles each day…and that’s how I found my secret spring.
I doubt that it’s truly a secret, but I’ve never seen anyone else there. I stop in the vet’s office in the stable and wash up, and—
“Hi, Carly.”
I don’t have to turn around. I’d know that deep voice anywhere. My heart skips a beat and I’m instantly hot all over. I’m not sure if it’s from desire or embarrassment over the night before.
I turn off the faucet. “Austin.”
Why is his name so breathy?
I turn, ready to apologize. Or run. Or jump him. I’m not sure which. Instead of any of those, I let out a laugh.
He’s dressed in tattered jeans, a plain white T-shirt—although it’s not all that white any longer—and brown boots. Army boots maybe? They’re not cowboy boots and they’re filthy. His face is shiny with sweat and his gorgeous dark hair is plastered to his temples. He sports a purplish bruise on his sculpted jawline where Chance clocked him last night.
“What’s so funny?” He glances down at himself.
“You look…worn.”
He lifts his head and frowns. “Chance had me up at six. Miles and I have been mending fences all morning.”
“Don’t you have people to do that?”
“Hell, yeah, we have people to do that. Lots of ranch hands. But…” He shakes his head. “It’s a long and boring story about how I’m now a cowboy-in-training, and I’d much rather talk about you. Are you all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
My question is ridiculous, of course. I left the bar last night without a word to him after yelling at the entire crowd. All this after he had his hand in my panties, his fingers working me like an expert and getting me to the brink.
He thinks I’m a mess.
In many ways, I am. Especially when it comes to men. Specifically him.
But these are my issues and I can’t let him feel guilty. He didn’t do anything wrong. Neither of us did, even though I’m still slightly mortified.
“I just…” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looks down. “I’m sorry, Carly.”
