Rustic Hearts (Poplar Falls Book 1)

by Amber Kelly

  I look back toward the hall Sophie disappeared down and then back at Dallas, who is shakily aiming a cue stick at the yellow solid instead of the cue ball.

  “Dallas, who’s driving you guys home?”

  “Myer,” she answers as she closes one eye and sticks her tongue out, trying to focus on her shot.

  “I got them,” Myer confirms.

  I turn back to Morgan. “Sure, I can take you. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

  “I’m going to pay my tab, and I’m ready if you are.”

  I look back at the hallway. “Okay. I’m going to the restroom. I’ll meet you up front.”

  Just as I make it to the ladies’ room and start to knock, it flies open, and Sophie stumbles out and right into my chest.

  “Excuse me,” she says as she rights herself.

  Then, she looks up to see it’s me.

  “Oh, it’s you.” She moves to put her back against the wall of the hall.

  I lean in, and I’m surrounded by the scent of jasmine. Her big blue eyes are glittering, and she is flushed from the alcohol.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fabulous.” She smiles huge, and my eyes are immediately drawn to her mouth.

  A woman comes racing into the hallway with her hand over her mouth and two other women on her heels. I place my hands on either side of the wall above Sophie and move in close to shield her from being trampled.

  I look down, and her eyes are squeezed shut. She opens one and looks up. I have her fenced in.

  “Mrs. Janelle thinks you’re gay,” she blurts out.

  I chuckle. “Does she now?”

  “Well, she isn’t sure, but she thinks it’s a possibility. She just said no one ever sees you with a woman, so they wonder.”

  “They?”

  “She wasn’t very specific about who they are. Probably just a bunch of jealous girls you have shot down.”

  “What about you? Do you wonder?”

  “Nope,” she whispers as she barely shakes her head.

  “Why not?”

  “I just think you’re busy and private. Plus, I’m pretty sure I saw a woman leaving your apartment at five a.m. last week.”

  “And what were you doing, watching my apartment at five a.m.?”

  “I wasn’t. I couldn’t sleep. I was sitting on the porch swing, sketching and waiting for the sun to rise.”

  “Do you want proof?”

  “Proof?”

  I lean in closer and dip my head to hers. “Tell Mrs. Janelle that you are one hundred percent positive I’m not gay.”

  I press my lips to hers, intending to prove a point and back away, but she gasps in surprise, her lips parting, and I take the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

  She grips the front of my henley and pulls me into her. Then, she stands up on her tiptoes to get closer. As our tongues wrestle, she releases her grip on my shirt and snakes her arms around my neck. She laces her fingers into my hair and tugs. A small moan escapes her, and it’s not enough. I want more. I want her whimpering beneath me. I tug the hem of her tank loose from her jeans, and just as I’m about to skim my hand up her bare side, I hear a throat clear. I break away from her lips and look toward the hallway entrance.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but I’m ready to go.” Morgan’s annoyed voice vibrates off the walls.

  She is pissed.

  “Be there in a minute.”

  “I want to leave now,” she hisses.

  I don’t want her to cause a scene and embarrass Sophie.

  “Okay. I’m coming.”

  I look back down at Sophie, who still has her arms around me as she stares at Morgan.

  “You good?” I ask her.

  She brings her stunned eyes to mine and nods. “I think so.”

  “Come on. I’m walking you back to Myer.”

  She disengages from me and starts down the hallway. Morgan gives her an angry scowl as we pass.

  “Down, tiger. I’ll be with you in a minute,” I toss at Morgan as I follow Sophie back to the pool tables.

  She makes it to Dallas and wraps her arms around her.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m drunk,” she answers into her chest.

  Dallas chuckles. “You think?”

  I hand Myer the keys to my apartment. “Take them to the ranch and put them in my bed. I know she won’t want to walk into the farmhouse in that condition.”

  He looks from me to Morgan and raises an eyebrow. “You got it.”

  “Thanks. Elle leave?”

  “Yep. She and Sonia headed out a few minutes ago. She said to tell you good-bye.”

  I slap him on the back and head out to the truck with Morgan in tow.

  I climb the steps to my apartment an hour and a half later.

  Morgan lost her shit on me on the way to her house and refused to get out of the truck once we got to her place. She screamed and then tried tears and hurled every insult she could think of at Sophie.

  Finally, after I refused her advances and threatened to wake her parents if she didn’t get out of my truck, she gave up and went into her house.

  I reach into the flowerpot off to the left of my door and grab the spare key. I enter as quietly as I can and flick on the small lamp on the table beside the door.

  When my eyes adjust, I see Sophie fast asleep on my bed. It looks like she’s wearing one of my old, worn-out John Deere T-shirts, and lying curled up in the crook of her side is Hawkeye with his feet in the air. No Dallas in sight.

  Damn dog. He knows he’s not allowed in my bed.

  I walk on silent feet to the bathroom and brush my teeth. I change into a pair of lounge pants, and then I grab a blanket from the linen closet and head to the couch off to the left side of the bed.

  “Hey,” I hear her whisper into the dark.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “It’s okay. Myer and Dallas haven’t been gone long.”

  “She could have stayed too.”

  “I know. She wanted to be home when Beau woke up, so she had Myer take her on home. You don’t have to sleep on that sofa. We can share the bed.”

  I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. I’m still wired, and I thought about that kiss the whole way home.

  “Looks like you already have a bedmate.”

  She looks down at Hawkeye, who is still curled up to her, and she smiles and scratches his belly. “Little rascal snores too. But, seriously, you can sleep with us.”

  She scoots over to the far right to make room for me. I hesitate for a moment, and then I grab the remote off the coffee table. I lie down on top of the covers beside her and click on the TV.

  She settles on her side, pulls the puppy close, and closes her eyes. Within minutes, she’s fast asleep, and I don’t sleep a wink all damn night.

  Sophie

  I wake up to the sound of yapping. I’m pressed against something warm and hard. I peek one eye open and see a broad, muscular back.

  Uh-oh.

  I sit straight up. Too fast, and the room spins. I bring my head to my hand to steady it because it feels like my brain is about to pound its way out of my skull.

  “Shut up, Hawk,” I hear Braxton’s sleepy voice command before he lightly chucks a pillow at the excited puppy at the end of the bed.

  Hawk grabs the pillow with his jaw and yanks it back and forth before settling and chewing on it like it’s a bone.

  “This is why he’s not allowed in the bed,” he mumbles.

  I look back down at the puppy. “But he’s such a good snuggler. Aren’t you, Hawkeye?” I coo at our furry bedmate.

  He takes my soft tone as an invitation. He drops the pillow and hops his way up to my lap. Then, he plants his paws on my chest and starts licking my face.

  I giggle, and that makes my head hurt worse. “Ouch. My head.”

  Braxton rolls over and looks at me. I’m sure I look frightful.

  “You need some ibuprofen?”

  “That would be great.”
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  He reaches into the nightstand drawer and pops the top off a bottle of medication. He shakes two into my hand. Then, he twists the top off a bottle of water sitting beside him and takes a swig before passing it to me.

  I take it from his hand and bring it to my lips. It’s a big deal. Drinking after him. I don’t do that. Not with anyone, but for some reason, I don’t mind this morning.

  “You’re overthinking the water, Princess.”

  “Get out of my head,” I snap.

  “You have a horrible poker face.”

  “So I’ve been told.” I hand him back the bottle and pull Hawkeye into my lap. “So, what’s happening here exactly?”

  “All we did was sleep last night,” he reassures me.

  “I know.”

  “What do you mean then?”

  “We’ve kind of had this whole bitter, judgmental, standoffish relationship going on. It was comfortable. I don’t know what to do with this. Are we calling a truce or something?”

  He appraises me for a moment, and then he sits up and stretches. Damn, he is pretty. Then, he plants his arms on the bed and leans into me.

  “You’re in my T-shirt, in my bed, holding my dog. What do you think?”

  “It’s you, so I don’t want to make any assumptions.”

  He grins.

  Then, he jumps up and walks to the bathroom.

  I look down at Hawkeye squirming in my arms. “Did that clear it up for you?”

  He yaps.

  “Yeah, me neither.”

  I hop up and grab my jeans from the armchair. I quickly pull them on while he is in the bathroom. I peer out the window beside the door that leads down to the side of the house. It looks quiet, but I know that my aunts and probably Emmett and Daddy are up. I wonder if they realize I’m missing yet.

  “See anything good?”

  I jump at his voice and quickly turn. “Just looking to see if anyone is stirring yet.”

  “It’s late. They’ve been up for hours.”

  I look at the alarm clock by his bed. It’s 7:06 a.m. These people have no concept of what is and isn’t late.

  “Madeline heads for the stables early on Sundays, and Ria and Doreen will leave for church soon. You can sneak in then.”

  Whew, that’s a good plan. Emmett and Daddy will be much easier to slip by than the women.

  “I bet Aunt Doe tried to wake me for breakfast and church. Think she’ll believe that I stayed at Dallas’s house last night?”

  He shrugs. “Or you could tell her the truth.”

  “Tell them I slept up here?” I squeak out.

  “It’s not like I ravaged you, Sophie. You drank too much, and I let you crash up here, so you wouldn’t wake the house up, stumbling in. They won’t care.”

  My face heats at the thought of him ravaging me. He must notice because he moves closer to me. I instinctively back closer to the window.

  “You kissed me,” I whisper.

  “Did I?”

  He did. Didn’t he? Did I kiss him? Oh God, it’s all a little fuzzy, and I’m not sure.

  “Let me know when you figure it out,” he says as he leans in and slides his hand around my waist, running his little finger across my exposed skin. Then, he dips it low, and I gasp as it moves me into him, hip to hip. Then, he wraps his hand around something hanging at my back and pulls it from behind me. “Come on, Hawk,” he says without looking away from my face.

  The puppy hops up from his perch on the rug and trots over, and Braxton bends down to attach the leash to his collar. Then, he stands back up and reaches for the door handle.

  “Be right back. Make yourself at home. There’s a coffeemaker on the counter and supplies in the cabinet above it, but I’m fresh out of soy milk.”

  He leads Hawkeye out the door and closes it behind them.

  I let out a breath. Get my hormones in check and make coffee.

  When they return, I’m sitting on the sofa with my mug, checking e-mail on my phone.

  “Coffee’s ready.”

  He lets Hawkeye off the leash, and he runs to me. “I think you have a new best friend.”

  I reach down and scratch him behind the ear as I whisper conspiratorially, “That’s why I let you in the bed last night. To buy your love and devotion.”

  “Just remember who feeds you, mutt.”

  I reach down and cover his ears. “Daddy didn’t mean it,” I utter softly.

  I look up at Braxton as he pours a cup of coffee.

  “This used to be my play space, you know.”

  He considers me as he stirs in the milk. “Is that right?”

  “Yeah. It wasn’t this.” I gesture to the one-room apartment.

  It’s studio-style with a huge king-size bed that faces a fireplace with a large flat-screen TV mounted above it. The seating area with a small sofa and armchair are left of the bed, and a tiny kitchenette with a microwave, coffeepot, and refrigerator are to the right, with a small island and sink. The large walk-in closet and bathroom with a good-sized tiled shower but no tub are right behind the wall that rests against the bed. There isn’t much in the way of décor but it’s painted a soft cream and accented in rich dark browns and navy.

  “It used to be an old loft over the barn where they stored hay bales until Daddy and Emmett closed it in for me one year. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a big, open space where I kept all my art supplies. Dallas and I would play up here, and sometimes, when she slept over, Momma would let us set up a tent and camp in it. I would sit at an easel, facing those front windows, for hours and sketch the ranch, the horses, the house, everything. Gram would gush over and proudly display every creation.”

  “Yep. It was just drywall and windows and not much else. Walker and I spent the entire summer after graduation plumbing it, installing the bath and kitchen, and building the fireplace. Moved in it from the main house October of that year.”

  “It’s nice. Cozy,” I praise.

  “It’s not much, but it’s all I need. It’s home.”

  We hear Aunt Doreen’s car start, and he looks out.

  “You’re all clear. They just pulled out of the gate.”

  I bend and give Hawk one last snuggle. Then, I stand and grab my things. “I’ll return your T-shirt.”

  He looks me over. “No hurry.”

  He heads toward the bathroom again and then turns as I open the door.

  “Don’t forget; we have driving lessons this week. A bet’s a bet.”

  Sophie

  I step out on the landing and look around to make sure the coast is clear. Then, I start down the steps and beeline for the porch when I hear the crunch of gravel under tires. I panic, thinking my aunts have forgotten something and returned, so I freeze.

  A black Jeep comes flying down the drive. I don’t recognize it, so I start walking again, and just as I make it across the yard, a woman emerges from the driver’s side and slams the door shut.

  I put on my polite smile and greet our guest, “Hi. How can I help you?”

  She removes her shades, and it dawns on me. I’ve seen her before. This is Morgan. Braxton’s ex from the bar last night.

  Great.

  She looks me over, taking in his shirt that is several sizes too big and my bare feet. Then, her eyes follow the path I took from Braxton’s front door to here, and they flare.

  “You can’t,” she sneers.

  I shrug and continue toward the steps to the porch, and she calls after me, “But I can help you.”

  At that, I take the first few steps up and turn to face her again, liking the advantage of looking down at her. “How’s that?”

  “Just some friendly advice.”

  I huff, “I don’t need any advice, but thanks.”

  I turn and head up the steps toward the front door when she calls after me anyway, “You aren’t his type, and he will never want you for more than that.”

  I look over my shoulder as she flits her hand out and gestures to my walk-of-shame appearance.

>   “He’s stubborn and set in his ways. He doesn’t like change, and he doesn’t give a damn about anyone who has dreams bigger than living in this Podunk town for the rest of their lives. You obviously don’t belong here, so he might play with you on his hook for a while, but he’ll toss you back.”

  Before I can come up with a decent retort, she places her glasses on her head and struts off in the direction of Braxton’s steps.

  What a bitch.

  After I shower and shoot a few e-mails off to Charlotte, I run down to the kitchen to scrounge for breakfast, trying to avoid looking outside to see if Morgan’s Jeep is still here. It shouldn’t matter to me. Should it?

  Ugh. I walk over to the window above the sink and look up to Braxton’s door. It’s closed, and I can’t see anything through his windows because of the sun’s glare.

  She’s up there, and I don’t like it. Not one bit. I decide it’s not because I want him. It’s because she’s awful, and he deserves better.

  I think he deserves better. When did I start caring about what Braxton Young deserves?

  That kiss really messed with my head.

  The front door opens and closes, and Elle walks into the kitchen and tosses her backpack onto the table.

  “Is that Morgan’s car out front?” she asks as she grabs a muffin from a basket on the counter.

  “Yep,” I say distractedly as I watch out the window, waiting for her to come down his stairs.

  “Well, that didn’t take long.”

  “What didn’t?”

  “She wants him back so bad. I just can’t believe Braxton brought her home last night. I thought he was avoiding her. Guess she convinced him after all,” she keeps talking as she opens the fridge and comes out with orange juice and a stick of butter. “You want a glass?”

  I nod in answer, and she pours us both juice, grabs a knife, and sits at the table.

  “He didn’t.”

  She looks up at me as she slathers the muffin with butter.

  “Bring her home last night, I mean. He did drive her home from the bar, but he came back alone. She showed up about half an hour ago.”

  “Hmm.” That’s her only reply.

  “Do you think we should rescue him?” I ask, and she cuts her eyes to me.