The next time she talked to Matt—if she talked to him at all—she'd make sure he was unattached.
No text. Was it too forward to text him again? He was probably still working. And she'd told him she wasn't available until later in the evening.
A shrill whistle stopped the swirl of her thoughts. She frowned up at her brother, who’d achieved the offensive noise with two fingers at his lips. He waved her over to where he was still standing among the chairs.
She grumbled as she stepped back into the heat. "What?"
"I hate to tell you this, but I think we faced all these chairs the wrong direction."
"No way."
"Yep." Wilder pointed to the paper they'd been using as a blueprint. "Way to go, genius."
"Oh, it's my fault?" she snapped. It was always her fault as far as her family was concerned.
He raised his eyebrows exactly as their father had often done before he'd left. It was one of the few things she could remember about her dad. She hated those disapproving eyebrows.
"You were the one holding the map," Wilder said.
Fine. He wanted to blame her? Whatever.
Shelby marched across the aisle and turned chairs a bit more forcefully than necessary. Maybe she'd been distracted by her encounter with the handsome farm hand next door. But Wilder could've taken a better look at the blueprint before this moment.
She hated disappointing him, though, especially after last year.
He'd always been protective of her, supportive, even when she'd screwed up. He'd tried to warn her that living the wild life would bring consequences, but she'd always blown him off.
Still, he’d been there when her life had crumbled around her.
He looked at her differently now. Disapproval fairly radiated off of him and had since August. To Wilder, probably to everyone in her family, she’d forever be a screw-up.
Seemed she couldn’t get anything right.
"What's going on?" Wilder tossed the question at her when they happened to meet at the chairs along the center aisle.
"Nothing." Shelby was too close to tears to look at him, so she kept her focus down and kept rotating chairs.
"I can't help you if you don't tell me." Big brother, always trying to fix her.
"I don't need your help." This time, she turned the chair and jabbed it into the grass with all the strength she could muster. She'd resolved she wouldn't need Wilder's help ever again, and that meant keeping her promise to stay out of trouble.
"You did last August." There was a touch of superiority in his voice.
She swore—loudly enough to startle a bird from the copse of trees past the gazebo—and whirled on her brother. "If I knew you'd keep bringing it up, I would've just stayed in jail."
He kept working, turning chairs with both hands at the same time. "You told mom you were going to be drama-free this weekend."
As if she needed the reminder. As if she hadn’t been trying her hardest. Jerk.
This time, she just sent him a wordless growl.
It didn't help. She stood there, breathing deeply until she could give him her nicest—fakest—smile. "There. I'm done." She went back to work.
Across the lawn at the back of the B&B, the screen door opened and closed. Mom and Quinn, Claire's maid of honor, emerged to stand on the porch.
Shelby was sick of being checked up on.
Wilder waved at mom. "Almost done." Diverting the attention off of her? She didn't know and didn't care. She kept her head down. She'd get through this task and then go up to her room.
Mom and Quinn walked across the lawn toward them, then continued down the aisle. They were deep in conversation about how the flowers should be arranged.
Wilder tugged on the hem of Quinn's blouse as she passed. Shelby shot him a questioning glance, and he grinned.
Quinn blushed and ducked her head to make notes in her notebook.
Wilder couldn't keep his eyes off her.
Shelby was desperate for anything to distract him from focusing on her failures. "Seriously?" she asked. "The maid of honor? Isn't that a little cliché?"
He held up both hands. "I wasn't doing anything."
She leveled a look at him. "Please. I know your MO. Don't spend the weekend trying to sweet-talk Quinn. She's cool."
She knew her brother. Telling him that Quinn was off-limits was like waving a red cape in front of a bull. Right now, she couldn't care less about Wilder's reputation or Quinn’s likely-to-be broken heart. If he got caught up with the maid of honor for the weekend, maybe he would lay off of Shelby. "She's way too nice for you."
Quinn started back in their direction. Mom remained in the gazebo, head bent to her phone.
"I've been listening to your show," Shelby said to Quinn as she neared. It was true. Sometimes too much music messed with Shelby's muse, and she had a secret thing for talk radio. Quinn's show was decent.
Quinn looked at her as if she'd shaved her head. "Oh. Thanks."
"There was one episode, a couple weeks ago. A girl called in and asked for advice on how to propose to her long-time boyfriend."
Wilder gave her the side-eye, proof that she was getting to him. She kept right on. Teach him to mess with her. "And by the end of her call, you had her convinced to break things off with him."
Quinn nodded. "We only played part of the call on the air. There were a lot of red flags that he wasn't the right guy for her."
"Maybe you could give Wilder some advice." Shelby punched him lightly on the arm.
Wilder looked down at Quinn with a blank expression, revealing nothing, which was one of his tells. Shelby's teasing was getting his dander up.
"Oh, I don't think Wilder needs my advice," Quinn said, her tone not at all convincing.
"Sure, he does," Shelby chirped. "What would you tell someone who’s never satisfied with the woman he's with? A man who's always looking for something better to come along?"
Wilder and Quinn got caught in some kind of stare, and, for a moment, it was as if Shelby didn't even exist. Can anyone say 'chemistry'?
Quinn's voice was quiet when she answered. She kept her focus on Wilder. "I think... someone like that, you know, someone who thinks the grass will always be greener somewhere else, is never going to be happy. It's important to be content in the here and now. Um, you know?" Quinn suddenly snapped out of her spell and looked at Shelby. "But I don't think your brother is like that."
She didn't, huh? Shelby knew more about Wilder's issues than their mom or Nicholas, but if Quinn wanted to stay blind, let her. Especially if whatever was playing out between them got Shelby off the hook.
Just then, Mom looked up from her phone. "Claire has returned from her massage. Why don't we all go inside and cool off a bit, and then we'll have a run-through of the wedding before dinner."
Thank goodness. Shelby escaped as if her heels were on fire. She needed a break from her family. A distraction.
And she knew just where to find one.
Next door.
Matt was running on fumes when he arrived back at the small ranch house he shared with Mom and his younger half-siblings, Ty and Kylie. It had taken longer than he'd wanted to fix the irrigator, and then he'd had to move fifty head of cattle to the west pasture.
He'd been on his way back to the house for supper when he'd noticed the portable nesting boxes where they housed the chickens hadn't been moved since yesterday. That was one of Ty's and Kylie's jobs. They couldn't just shirk it. The animals depended on them.
He'd gone to do it himself and noticed that the water and feed troughs were almost empty, which meant he'd had to fill those, too.
The A/C on his truck had been sputtering since last summer, and today it had finally given up the ghost. After sitting out in the sun all day, even with the windows open, he was sweating buckets.
He’d been working his butt off since five a.m. He was bone-tired.
And angry that no one around here took on enough responsibility. Everything was left to him. In t
he beginning, he’d been trying to help Mom out. But she’d taken and taken and taken, and he’d let her.
He slammed into the mud room and toed off his boots. When he walked through the kitchen to wash up in the bathroom, he saw his supper congealing on the stove. Probably cold by now. Nice.
Just before he ducked into the bathroom, he saw Mom sitting in the living room with her knitting needles clicking in her lap. Kylie was on her belly on the floor in front of the TV, zoned in.
He gritted his teeth and held onto his temper by a thread.
In the bathroom, he scrubbed his hands and forearms with soap and rinsed off, then splashed cold water on his neck. While he took a towel to it, he stared at his reflection. Who was that guy? He looked haggard, his hair too long because it took time to go into town and get a haircut. Waking up every day at four-thirty to start chores in the dark was exhausting.
This was not what he'd wanted to do with his life. And Mom didn't seem to care.
He'd been vacillating all afternoon about what to do with Shelby's number. She wasn't a part of his problem—unless he pulled her in and made her one.
He'd tried talking to Mom before, but she was a master manipulator, quick to turn on the tears and guilt until he felt chained to the ranch with no end in sight.
He couldn't live like this anymore.
He went to the small bedroom that Ty and Kylie shared. Matt owned the top two drawers in the chest shoved into the corner near the bunkbeds. The house was so small he didn't even have his own bedroom but slept on the couch in the living room. His personal things... what personal things? He had a couple of boxes up in the attic, shoved up there when they'd moved in. This situation was supposed to have been temporary, but here he was, four years later. He craved his own space.
He pulled on a clean T-shirt.
In the kitchen, he stood at the counter and ate the cold Swiss steak and mashed potatoes.
Mom padded in, bare feet and jeans, her graying hair in a ponytail.
"Ty and Kylie didn't move the egg mobile today"—the family's name for the portable nesting boxes—"and the water tank was almost bone dry."
Mom opened the fridge and peered inside. She grabbed a can of cola and shut the door. "I let them go to the pool with friends this afternoon."
He ground his back teeth. "They can't just go off to play without finishing their chores."
She shrugged absently. "They were whiny, and it was hot this afternoon."
"Yes, it's hot." Matt knew all too well. He'd been in the cab of his truck with no A/C. "Which means the chickens can die without water. Dead chickens means no egg production. Which means no income from that stream, remember?"
With the ranch up and running, he'd laid out for her exactly how each type of animal brought in cash for them. Their farm-fresh eggs brought in a nice little sum every week from the farmer's market and grocery store in town.
"I knew you'd take care of it."
He clenched his jaw even harder, anger heating his neck. "It's their job," he gritted out. "Not mine."
"Honey, it's just one day. And they're kids."
It wasn't just one day. It was his whole life. Bound to this stupid ranch because she'd made promises she hadn't kept. And he'd been just a kid when his dad had left. She'd been so quick to call Matt the man of the house, and he'd felt like everything was his fault. He'd believed her.
He was a man, but this wasn't his house. And he'd had enough of her draining him dry. "I'm going out."
She'd already been heading back toward the living room, sure he was going to accept responsibility for the kids' work on top of his own. Sure that he'd do it without complaint.
She stopped, and turned back. She had the nerve to look shocked at his words. "What do you mean, you're going out?"
"With a friend." He couldn't quite force Shelby's name past his lips. Mom would find out when he was ready. He was tired of playing by her rules.
"What time will you be back?" Her expression was pinched with concern.
He shrugged. "Don't wait up."
Let her worry. He'd done enough worrying for the both of them for far too long.
He left his half-empty plate on the counter and went out the back door, lighting up his phone as he went.
Chapter 3
Dessert was wrapping up when Shelby's phone buzzed from beneath her thigh on her chair.
Yes! Farm Boy had come through, and it was a call, not a text. But she couldn't exactly take it in the bed-and-breakfast's dining room, surrounded by the wedding party, minus Wilder and Quinn, who'd had to go to Austin in search of flowers. There'd been some mix-up with the florist, and Claire and Mom had been on the verge of a meltdown, but Wilder had assured them he and Quinn could fix it.
With such a small wedding party, the rehearsal dinner had been quiet and intimate. Or maybe Shelby was noticing the quiet because Nicholas had been withdrawn all evening, even as Claire bubbled with happiness at his side.
Did her brother have a case of cold feet? Not that he'd ever tell Shelby. She'd always been closest to Wilder, at least until—
She ruthlessly cut off that thought and stood to kiss her mom's cheek. "I'm going to get some air. I might go up to bed in a bit."
Mom absently patted her hand and shooed her off.
Shelby hadn’t told a lie. She was going to get some air. And also return Matt's call. And she'd go up to bed eventually.
She'd promised her mom and Nick a drama-free weekend, and she’d promised herself no more trouble. It wasn't like going out with Farm Boy for a couple of hours would pose any threat. He didn't seem the trouble-making type.
She strode through the kitchen and out to the porch, then continued around the farmhouse to the front, where she'd have more privacy and could be on the lookout for when he arrived.
He answered on the first ring. "Hey."
His voice was warm and immediately made her think of that slow smile of his. Her stomach somersaulted. "Hey." She could only hope she sounded as casual, not too eager.
"I've been thinking about you all day."
She bit her lip against the schoolgirl squeal.
"Sounds unproductive," she teased.
He didn't chuckle. "You still want to spend time with me tonight? I'm parked in front of the B&B."
He was? She raised her eyes and noticed the red pickup parked near one of the massive pine trees that created a wind block and privacy screen from the dirt road out front. He was leaning against the front fender, legs crossed casually, one hand holding his phone to his ear.
Her feet answered for her, carrying her in his direction before she'd consciously thought about it.
"I still want to see you," she said into her phone. And she meant it.
He must've seen her step off the porch and onto the gravel. "Your friends not going to miss you?"
He hadn't asked and she hadn't volunteered her reason for being at the B&B. "I'm here for my brother's wedding tomorrow."
She was close enough now that she disconnected the call. He slid his phone into the front pocket of his perfectly worn jeans, but he didn't move from his casual pose. He was taller than she'd thought when she'd seen him from above. He was at least a head and shoulders taller than she was.
"Nobody'll miss me for the rest of the night," she said.
The evening light was dimming, but even so, she thought something sparked in his eyes. Stubble shadowed his jaw, and she wanted to touch it, to know how it felt against her fingers. Or her cheek.
Whoa. Slow down. Not looking for trouble.
Before she got distracted again, she needed to get one thing straight. "You aren't married, are you? No ball and chain? No girlfriend?"
She'd said the words in a teasing way—though she was dead serious—but he didn't smile.
"Nope." He shifted his feet.
Maybe because normal people didn't blurt it out like that. But he didn't know she was Shelby Caine, which meant he didn't know about that scandal.
She donned a charmin
g smile. "So, what're we going to do?" She stepped toward the passenger door, which galvanized him into moving.
He reached for the door handle, then stopped her with a hand to her forearm. His touch was like a firebrand, sizzling against her skin, zinging sensation up her arm and down her spine.
She gazed up into his face. He looked as flustered as he had when the sprinkler exploded on him.
"The truck, uh..." He cleared his throat. "It's not the nicest. And the A/C is out."
She shrugged. "I don't mind." The breeze had picked up as the sun had disappeared, so the heat wasn't so oppressive anymore.
He boosted her into the truck and shut the door behind her. There was straw on the floorboard at her feet and a dusty cowboy hat between them, though he'd been wearing a ball cap earlier.
He climbed into the driver's side, suddenly looking nervous as his big hands fired up the engine and clasped the wheel. He stared out the windshield, though he hadn't kicked the car into gear yet. "I thought—are you hungry? The diner in town is still open for a little while."
Drat. She'd be recognized for sure at the diner. Sawyer Creek was too small, and she really liked that he wasn't privy to her notoriety.
"We just finished the rehearsal dinner."
He glanced at her, then back out the windshield, wincing slightly.
Maybe he was hungry.
"Is there a movie theater?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.
He shook his head.
"Well, what do farm boys do for fun around here?" she asked in what she hoped was a warm, teasing voice.
"My name is Matt." The words emerged cool, and they hadn't even left the B&B parking lot yet.
She didn't want him to change his mind. Hadn't meant to offend him. "Sorry," she said quietly. "Matt."
He shook his head and looked at her, his eyes too dark to read. One hand came up to rub the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. My… never mind."
Someone New: sweet contemporary romance (Jilted in Sawyer Creek Book 2) Page 2
