2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Hannah

I dragged my finger along the pastry case, practically drooling over the choices behind the glass. Muffins, donuts, cookies, lemon bars…ugh, how was I supposed to choose? I wanted one of everything, but it would be difficult to do my job in a sugar coma.

“Hurry up. You’re holding up the line.”

I straightened, pinning a narrow-eyed glare at the owner of Sugar Rush Bakery. “This is your fault.”

My little sister put her hands on her curvy hips, her chestnut ponytail bobbing with the attitude she reserved for me. “And how is that?”

I gestured toward the case, overloaded with all kinds of temptation. My sister was the devil when it came to baked goods. “Are you kidding, Phoebe? White chocolate and raspberry donuts? Banana coconut muffins? Apple streusel? Making me choose is torture.”

With a huff and eye roll, she slid the case open, plucked up a blueberry muffin, put it in a bag emblazoned with her adorable, sassy pink logo, and held it out to me.

“There. We both know this is what you were going to choose. It’s what you always choose.”

I took the muffin from her, indignant. “I might have changed my mind.”

“We both also know that isn’t true.”

We did. I was a creature of habit. I’d eat the same breakfast every day until I couldn’t stand to look at it then move on to a new food obsession. I was going strong with Phoebe’s blueberry muffins, though.

She pointed to the opposite side of the counter. “Your coffee will be over there when it’s ready.”

I blew my sister a kiss. “Thanks, Phe.”

She blew a kiss back at me. “Welcome, Banana. Now, get out of here, you.”

Phoebe went back to her line of customers while I hitched my hip on the vintage linoleum counter, watching. Phe was good with people. She had a natural way about her, floating softly around them, cushioning anyone who needed it. She’d been sweet since the day she was born. I’d been all of three years old, but I still remembered her warm weight as our dad put her in my arms for the first time.

Our family was a little protective of her. She was our little cinnamon roll, far too sweet for this world. When she’d decided to open Sugar Rush, my two brothers and I had begun showing up in shifts. Caleb at opening, me midmorning, and Cormac in the afternoon. Ostensibly, we were here for the baked goods and coffee, but it went unsaid we were checking in on Phe. She knew it, we knew she knew it, but there had been no stopping us.

Us Kellys were like that. Hardheaded, tight-knit, uninterested in changing.

Phe’s barista and friend, Camille, slid my iced coffee across the counter. “Here you go,” she chirped.

I hopped down and grabbed my drink with a grin. “Thanks, Cam. You’re the best.”

I waved at Phe and eyeballed everyone in line on my way out. There were a couple guys who looked like some type of trouble in their backward caps and their T-shirt sleeves rolled just right to show off their pumped-up biceps. I looked at them extra hard. Some of these young cowboys thought they were God’s gift and wouldn’t hesitate to give my sister a hard time if they felt like it. I wouldn’t have it, but Phoebe didn’t love me threatening her customers, especially if their only crime was being too handsome for their own good.

One last hard, menacing look and I was off.

Rolling my truck windows down, I turned up the radio. I wasn’t in a hurry to get to work. It was a heavy paperwork day—my least favorite. I’d done it to myself, though. Had I not put off everything I needed to do until the last minute, I wouldn’t have hours of sitting in my office ahead of me.

I shrugged and sang along to the music. It was my fate, and there was no point getting upset about it. Tomorrow would be another day.

I still hadn’t gotten used to unlocking the door to Graham’s house. It didn’t feel right for it to be locked up and deadly silent. It’d been a month. A month without “ Mornin’, Hannah-girl, ” when I walked in, and “ Get conquerin’ the world ” when I left. Sliding my key into the door shouldn’t have still felt so wrong. It made me wonder if maybe it would always feel that way.

I walked through the living room, my blinders on so I didn’t have to see Graham’s recliner, which I knew from memory had his butt print in it. It was where he’d spent most of his time this last year. The first time I came here after…well, after , seeing it empty had almost been my undoing. Since then, I’d purposely avoided looking.

In the kitchen, I turned on the coffeepot. My measly iced coffee wasn’t going to cut it. Not even close. I’d taken my meds this morning, but I was still going to need way more caffeine to get through my tasks without my mind wandering in a hundred directions.

I opened the fridge, surprised to see more than just the small carton of milk and bag of apples I kept at the house. There was deli meat, a pack of chicken, veggies, and a bottle of orange juice.

Strange. Henry must’ve been by. That had to explain it.

Henry was the groundskeeper who lived in a small cabin at the far edge of the property. Graham had owned ten acres, so Henry’s place was pretty far off from the main house. He kept to himself, but I knew he looked out for me in his own way. He’d heard Graham reminding me to eat more than a time or two, and now that Graham wasn’t here…

I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut to stave off the burning. Now wasn’t the time for getting upset. There was too much to do, and I could almost hear Graham’s disgust at me getting lost in my feelings over him. “ Find somethin’ else worth cryin’ for. It isn’t me! ”

Grabbing a full mug of coffee, I headed to my office at the back of the house. What had once been used for storage was now a comfortable, if not fairly disorganized, space. When I’d started working here, Graham had kitted it out with a solid oak desk, filing cabinets, and a brand-new computer. And thanks to a satellite twinkling up in the sky, the internet was faster than it had any business being considering we were well off the beaten path.

Graham never said anything to me about it, but once I caught him reading an article about the best office design for people with ADHD. A week later, he’d had curtains and blinds installed to cover the large picture window overlooking the property. He’d done this quietly, without shaming me for the times I’d gotten lost in the view. Now I automatically closed the curtains when I needed my brain to stay on task.

I shook my head, but it was impossible to stop thinking about Graham when I was sitting in his house, surrounded by all the little things he’d done to show me I was important—not just as an employee but a person.

I picked up the phone to return a call. Dell Rivers answered on the first ring, like always, bypassing any kind of greeting.

“I need you out here, Hannah.”

I tapped my pencil on my appointment book. “I understand, Dell. I have a spot for you, and I’ll be happy to come out and take care of your horses, but I need to know you’re going to let me do it.”

His bluster was audible through the phone. “Of course I am. That’s why I called you. To do your job. If I could, I—”

“You would. I know.” I barely suppressed a laugh. Dell Rivers would run the universe if he could. He was the definition of a control freak. “Before I pencil you in, I need a promise from you, Dell.”

More audible blustering. I was sure his face was bright red and the vein in his forehead was throbbing. If I didn’t know he was a decent man, deep down, I wouldn’t have bothered humoring him. He was too much trouble for that.

“Fine. Yes, I promise to leave you alone to do your job.” He mumbled something too low for me to make out. “Is that good enough, or do I need to call Cleve? He’s been after my business for a while now, and I know he’d be happy to come out tomorrow—”

“You can call Cleve.” I tapped my pencil with a little more force. “But we both know he’ll have your horses on a three-week cycle, and you’ll be lucky to get that. If you want to get six weeks out of a trim…”

I didn’t need to finish my statement. Cleve Jones had been a farrier for over twenty years. He might’ve taken pride in his work once upon a time, but these days, it was rushed and shoddy. I’d been called to clean up his uneven trims and loose shoes more than once, but he still had customers because of his lower prices and willingness to work with anyone.

Dell’s horses didn’t like Cleve. We both knew it. We also both knew his threats of going to Cleve were empty; I just needed him to stop breathing down my neck every time I showed up to do my job. Dell loved his horses and thought that made him an expert—more than my farrier schooling and dozens of certificates. Not to mention the years of mentoring I got from Graham and experience I had in taking care of horses on my own.

“Yes, all right. You called my bluff, Hannah Kelly,” Dell admitted. “When can you get out here? Trixie’s hooves need some serious TLC. If Cleve tries to get near her, I’m afraid he won’t leave without a dent somewhere on his person.”

We made an appointment for later in the week, and I got on with more phone calls, only stopping when my stomach started to growl. That was when I remembered my blueberry muffin was still inside the paper bag it came in.

I reached inside, licking my lips with anticipation. Before I could slide it out, my office door swung open, slamming into the wall behind it.

There, standing in the doorway, was a man.

A very wet, very naked man. Chest heaving, fists clenched at his sides, his wild eyes bounced over me. I backed up a step, and he tensed like he was about to pounce.

My spine iced over, and my limbs became heavy with the dread of what might come next, but I didn’t let the fear paralyze me. Blindly feeling around on the desk beside me, paper crinkled under my hand. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it would have to do.

Before I could think better of it, I reared my arm back and threw my muffin at him.