Page 24 of Awaiting the Storm (Wildhaven #1)

T he sky has turned a cobalt blue by the time Charli and I finish the evening chores.

The sun dipped below the ridgeline about twenty minutes ago, leaving just enough light to guide us from the barn to the ranch house.

The horses have been stabled, brushed, and fed.

Giles left about half an hour ago, but Carl’s truck is still parked in the driveway, indicating that he hasn’t returned from checking the water lines in the south pasture yet.

I wipe the back of my hand across my forehead as Charli tosses the empty bucket into the feed room and lets out an exhausted groan.

“I swear, Matty, I’m not exaggerating; Giles has been a pain in the ass lately.”

I snort. “Giles comes across gruff, but underneath, he’s just a big ol’ teddy bear.”

“Yeah, well, he’s been gruffer than usual,” she huffs.

“We’ve been working with a few of the new boarded horses this week.

And he was being really impatient with one of the colts.

Like aggressively impatient. When I told him he needed to relax a little because the colt was feeding off his energy, he told me that if I didn’t like the way he trained horses, then I could leave his arena.

His arena, like he owns it or something. ”

I roll my eyes and start toward the house. “He’s not wrong, Charli. He’s the head trainer. It is his arena.”

“But he was being an ass and in front of the colt’s owner who came to watch.”

I stop and turn to her. “You scolded Giles in front of an owner?”

“Did you hear the part about him …”

“Being an ass? Yes, I did,” I reply. “But you’re his assistant, Charli. I’m sure he doesn’t appreciate being reprimanded by you in front of a horse’s owner. ”

“Maybe that’s true, but this isn’t the first time he’s acted like a jerk when I voiced my opinion.

He doesn’t respect me. I know he has years of experience training horses and has achieved great success, but I’ve improved quite a bit myself, in case you haven’t noticed.

I believe I should be able to speak up when I feel a session is going in the wrong direction without having my head bitten off. ”

I sigh. “You’re right. You have gotten very good, and you do deserve to be heard. I’ll talk to him.”

She smiles. “Thanks,” she says, elbowing me lightly. “Now, let’s get inside. You’ve got a hot date picking you up in”—she fishes her phone from her pocket and taps the screen—“one hour and fifteen minutes.”

Right. That date.

My stomach does a weird little somersault at the reminder.

Inside the ranch house, the scent of baked apples and cinnamon lingers from Grandma’s earlier experiments with sugar-free dessert options.

She’s out playing bunco now while Daddy and Grandpa are in the living room, watching television with a bowl of air-popped corn between them.

I’m not sure if they know about my plans for tonight; although I’m fairly certain Daddy overheard me and Caison talking earlier at the closing, he hasn’t mentioned anything.

Charli and I both kick off our boots in the mudroom and barely make it into the hallway before her phone rings.

She answers with a bright, “Finally!” and puts it on speaker as we climb the stairs up to my bedroom.

It’s Shelby.

“Hey, we made it!” she says, her voice echoing over the line. “Just checked in at the motel. Cabe’s grabbing our bags out of his truck.”

“Good,” I say, taking the phone from Charli’s hand, relieved. “Everything go all right?”

“Smooth as could be,” she says. “We got Jupiter all settled in the stables at the fairgrounds, and we’re just dropping off our stuff here, then meeting Axle and Royce to grab some food.”

“Tell our wayward cousins we said hello,” Charli calls as she opens my closet door and rummages through my clothing.

Shelby laughs. “Will do. Anyway, just wanted to let you know we’re here. We’ll go over to the arena first thing in the morning for check-in. ”

“Good luck. You’re gonna do great,” I tell her, and I mean it. “Don’t let Jupiter second-guess himself.”

“He’s good,” she says confidently. “We’ve got this.”

“Love you,” I say.

“I love you more,” Charli bellows over my shoulder.

“Love y’all,” she says, then adds, “Matty, have fun tonight. Try not to overthink it.”

“Charli told you?”

“Yep, texted her as soon as you told me,” Charli admits. “And she is overthinking it! I’m trying to help her pick out an outfit before she full-on spirals and attempts to back out.”

“Okay,” I cut in, “we’re hanging up now.”

Shelby just laughs again and ends the call.

Charli turns to me, hands on her hips like a drill sergeant. “All right, go shower, quickly, so we can get to work.”

We end up with every piece of clothing I own strewn across the bed, floor, and every available surface. I’m half dressed in an old sports bra and a pair of lounge pants, clasping a blouse I’ve never even worn out of the house.

“Too dressy?” I ask as I hold it up to my chest.

Charli squints. “Too funeral-y.”

I groan and toss it onto the reject pile.

The date’s at The Prairie Pie, the laid-back pizza joint in town that serves everything on mismatched plates. It’s casual. Comfortable. And still, I’m agonizing over what to wear.

Charli is rifling through my closet as if she were searching for buried treasure. “Okay, hear me out. What if you wear your dark-wash skinny jeans—the ones that fit like leggings—and that oversized sweater you bought at the boutique in town?”

“The one that falls off my shoulder?” I ask.

“That’s the one! I really like the color, and you can pair it with your dark brown boots.”

I hesitate. “Do you think it’s good enough?”

She shrugs. “It’s pizza, not prom. Plus, it’s soft and sexy, but, like, unintentionally sexy,” she says, holding up the sweater she found on the top shelf of the closet, still in the bag.

I crack a smile. “All right, jeans and sweater it is.”

She plops down on the bed and watches me shimmy out of my lounge pants and into the jeans with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“It’s perfect. Rustic cowgirl. Minimal effort. Maximum effect.”

I roll my eyes but grab the boots from the closet floor.

Then, just when I think we’re done, Charli gets that look—the one that means she’s up to something.

“Wait,” she says, sliding off the bed, “before you put those on, we need to address the important part.”

“What’s that?”

She walks over to my dresser, opens the top drawer, and starts digging through it like a raccoon in a trash can.

“Charli …”

She holds up a plain cotton bra and makes a face. “Nope.”

“What are you doing?”

She slings aside half my lingerie until she triumphantly holds up a burgundy lace bra and panty set. “This,” she says, “is the one.”

I make a face. “No one is going to be seeing my underwear tonight.”

“Well, not with that attitude, they won’t,” she says as she tosses the set in my direction.

“Fine,” I say as I shrug on the sweater and remove the sports bra.

She softens, leaning against the dresser. “You don’t seem that excited.”

“I am,” I say quickly, then falter. “I’m just … nervous.”

Her brows lift. “You weren’t nervous last time.”

“Last time didn’t feel like a date,” I admit. “It wasn’t clearly defined. We were just sitting at a table, having a conversation, and then … everything happened.”

She gives me a pointed look. “You mean, when you ran off like a big baby and the sexy cowboy chased you down? Then you practically combusted in the parking lot before going home with him?”

I sigh and sit on the edge of the bed. “Yes, that.”

She flops beside me. “And now you’re worried. Why?”

“I’m worried because it feels different now. It’s been weeks. We haven’t talked much except for business. And tonight’s not business. It’s … I don’t know. Real.”

Charli nods. “So, tell me what happened last time.”

I glance at her.

“All of it,” she insists.

So, I do.

I tell her about the Foraged Bistro and the moment I walked in and saw him standing there, looking like trouble in denim and a white dress shirt.

We ordered our food, and before it arrived, he outlined the deal he and Holland had crafted.

He handed me the proposal after presenting his pitch—earnest, generous, and much more than I had expected.

All I could feel in that moment was shame.

Not toward him, but toward myself, for the failure I hadn’t been able to escape.

It was the weight I had been carrying for far too long.

Then I tell her that just as the food arrived, I suddenly left—more like ran away—because I didn’t want him to see me cry. But he followed me. When he pulled me into his arms in that gravel lot, something inside me opened up. It didn’t feel weak; it felt empowering.

And then we kissed.

And I’d never been kissed like that. Not ever.

I pause there, the memory fresh enough to make my skin warm.

Charli whistles low. “Damn. And then?”

“We went back to his cabin.”

“Right,” she says, trying not to grin. “And?”

“And … things got hot and heavy, but we didn’t get very far before you called. About Daddy.”

She leans her head on my shoulder. “God, that night feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Yeah. I haven’t really had time to process it all. Not Daddy’s scare. Not the thing with Caison. I don’t know if I’m ready to face any of it.”

She’s quiet for a second, then says, “Do you want to cancel?”

The question makes something twist inside me.

“I thought about it,” I admit. “Not because I don’t want to see him. I do. But I don’t know what he’s expecting tonight or what I’m expecting. I’m just a bundle of uncertainty. And I don’t like the way it feels.”

Charli lifts her head. “That’s fair. But, Matty … you’ll never know wh at’s between you and tall, dark, and ridiculously handsome Caison Galloway unless you take a chance to find out.”

I meet her eyes, and she grins.

“You don’t have to have it figured out tonight,” she says. “Just … go. Eat some pizza. Listen to music. Laugh. Let him look at you like he did last time. Let yourself feel something good. And if the opportunity presents itself … ravage that cowboy.”

I burst out laughing. “Okay.”

She dangles the burgundy lace panties in front of me. “Just in case?”

I roll my eyes, but take them and walk to the bathroom.

Because the truth is that I want to feel good tonight. I want to remember what it’s like to be touched by a man, not because he wants something from me, but because he truly wants me. Even though I’m still figuring out my feelings for Caison, I know I’m not ready to walk away.

Not yet.