Page 33 of Awaiting the Storm (Wildhaven #1)

I ’m still in the kitchen, stacking dishes beside the sink, when I glance at my phone again.

Nothing.

Just the same silence that’s been staring back at me since supper ended twenty minutes ago.

Caison said he’d text. Said he was sorry for canceling.

Something urgent came up. We rescheduled for Wednesday—two whole days from now—but it still stings.

I was excited for tonight. Maybe too much.

I spent extra time on my hair this morning, picked a shirt that shows just a little cleavage, and even put on the sexy underwear. Just for him.

Stupid.

Ugh, I’ve never been this girl. The one who worries about what she wears or checks her phone every five minutes, looking for a text from a guy. It’s like I’ve morphed into Charli overnight.

“You keep checking that thing like whatever you’re looking for is going to miraculously appear. It will chime if you get a text, you know. Stop stressing,” Charli says beside me as she rinses a plate.

“I’m not,” I lie. “I’m just checking to see if Shelby texted to let us know that they’ve left Cheyenne.”

Charli snorts. “You mean the Shelby who texted the group chat over an hour ago with pictures of her in Cabe’s truck, holding a check and her new ribbon? That Shelby?”

I sigh and roll my eyes, setting a dish down a little too hard. “Fine. I’m waiting to hear from Caison.”

Charli grins. “That’s what I thought.”

I don’t have the energy to banter. Disappointment sits heavy in my chest, even though I try to convince myself otherwise.

It’s not like we had concrete plans. We were just going for a ride.

It was just something I was looking forward to.

And I haven’t looked forward to much of anything the last year, so the feeling is foreign, and I don’t know what to do with it.

I’m drying my hands when my phone starts to ring.

Finally.

My heart kicks up, and my damn stomach flutters as I grab it from the counter, expecting to see Caison’s name.

Only it’s not.

It’s Carl’s.

I nearly let it go to voicemail. I almost press Decline.

But something makes me tap the screen to answer.

“Hey, Carl. What do you need?” I say, keeping my tone clipped.

“I need to see you,” he says fast, urgent. “I’m in town.”

I close my eyes and lean a hip against the counter. “Carl, if this is about us—”

“It’s not,” he cuts in. “It’s about the ranch. I swear.”

That stops me. “The ranch?”

“Yeah,” he says, quieter now. “Look, I’m not gonna get into it on the phone. You gotta see it with your own eyes.”

“See what?”

He hesitates. “I just—I need you to trust me, Matty.”

Trust him. Right. Like I haven’t heard that before.

I glance at Charli, who’s busy drying silverware and placing it into the drawer beneath the island, then back at the phone. “You’re not giving me a lot to go on here, Carl.”

“I know. I know that. But this is important. Meet me at The Buckhorn. Just for ten minutes. That’s all I’ll keep you. Please.”

The Buckhorn? That’s an unusual place to discuss ranch-related matters. It’s the most upscale restaurant in town, an overpriced steak house, with expensive suits and big money. This is not Carl’s typical scene.

“You dragging me to a steak house to have some romantic-gesture moment?” I ask dryly. “Because I swear to God, Carl, if there are flowers or—”

“There’s not,” he says quickly. “I swear. It’s not like that. You’ll see when you get here.”

I hesitate. My mind tells me to stay home, but my gut—one that knows Carl well and can sense something is up in his voice—urges me to go. So, I follow my instinct, and I head upstairs to change into something more presentable than the tank top and lounge pants I’m currently wearing.

“I’ll be there in fifteen,” I say, then hang up before I can talk myself out of it.

I quickly slip into the jeans, blouse, and boots I set out to wear for my and Caison’s ride. I pull the tie out of my hair and run my fingers through it, and then I swipe on some lip gloss. I snatch the shearling jacket from my closet and head back down.

“Where are you going?” Charli asks when she catches sight of me.

I grab my keys from the hook and stuff my phone into my pocket. “I won’t be long. Just something I need to check on.”

“Oh, I guess you finally got that text,” she calls after me. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Sissy!”

The Buckhorn glows like a lantern against the darkness of the November Wyoming night, its windows lit warm and glowing amber behind heavy stone walls.

I park two spots away from Carl’s truck and spot him standing near the entrance, arms crossed, pacing in that restless way he always does when he’s trying not to blow a gasket.

As I walk up, he straightens and offers a tight smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“You got me here, Carl. Now, tell me what this is all about.”

He nods toward the door. “Come on. We’re just gonna grab a drink.”

I stand still. “Wait. You brought me all the way here for a drink?”

“It’s not what you think,” he says, taking my hand.

I immediately pull back. “Carl, I swear to God—”

“Matty, I didn’t lie to you,” he insists. “You’ll understand in a second. Just … come with me.”

I don’t want to follow him inside. Every instinct is screaming that this is a setup. But my boots keep moving, and I follow him through the heavy wood doors and into the low-lit dining room that smells like heaven, sweet and smoky, beef and bourbon .

The hostess smiles, ready to greet us, but Carl waves her off. “We’re just grabbing a table in the bar.”

She nods, and he leads the way.

My nerves are on edge as we walk past tables of well-dressed patrons, men in crisp suits, women in pearls, and couples holding hands and enjoying a romantic dinner by candlelight. We turn the corner toward the bar, and he steers me to a tall two-top on the far side.

I reach for the chair, but Carl places a hand on my lower back and gently guides me to the other side.

The one facing the rest of the room.

“Carl, what the hell is going on?”

He doesn’t answer. Just gives me a tight smile. “Just sit.”

I lower myself onto the stool, heart thumping against my ribs. I watch as Carl walks over to the bar and orders drinks. His back is turned.

And then I glance left.

I freeze.

Holland Ludlow is seated at a round table across the room. Caison sits beside him, a glass in his hand, his head slightly bowed. There’s a man I don’t recognize, and seated across from Caison is Giles Godwin.

My stomach twists into a hard knot.

I can’t hear their conversation, not from this far, but I can read the mood—relaxed and celebratory. Holland’s laughing, pouring something from a bottle. Caison leans in to say something to Giles, who nods.

Then they stand.

The stranger shakes everyone’s hand and excuses himself. I watch as he makes his way to the hostess stand. She goes to retrieve his jacket while he stares at his phone. When he disappears through the wooden door, I turn back to the table.

Giles says something to Caison and claps him on the shoulder.

But it’s Holland’s voice that cuts through the air, bold and booming.

“Welcome aboard,” he says with a smile that makes my blood run cold. “Ironhorse is happy to have you.”

I stare. Unmoving as my mind races.

Carl reappears at my side, two tumblers in his hands. He sets one in front of me, but I don’t reach for it. I’m still locked on the scene across the room .

“That’s what you needed to see,” he says, low. “Told you that you couldn’t trust him.”

I don’t respond. I can’t. My ears are ringing. My chest is tight.

Caison—he said he had to cancel because something urgent came up. He promised to text later. Said he’d see me on Wednesday.

But he didn’t mention anything about this. He didn’t say he was sitting down to dinner with my horse trainer. That he was helping Holland poach Giles right out from under me.

“I don’t believe it,” I say.

“I didn’t believe it either,” Carl says, leaning in.

“I was across the street at the café when I saw Giles walking down the sidewalk. I came out to catch him because I wanted to let him know that I would be a little late tomorrow morning since I was going to look at a house that had come up for lease. That’s when I saw Holland and that well-to-do guy.

They were waiting for Giles in front of the building.

They shook hands and then walked inside. ”

I swallow hard as I continue to watch the three of them.

“I came in and sat down right here, trying to listen to what they were discussing. Then Galloway arrived. I spoke to their server after he brought out their food and asked if he knew what was happening. He mentioned that they were celebrating a significant deal and hiring one of the guys. That’s when I decided to call you. ”

Across the room, the three men shake hands, still smiling. Still toasting.

“I don’t understand. Why would they want Giles?”

“They’re going into horses.”

I cut my eyes to him. “What do you mean?”

He sighs. “I’ve heard rumors. Whispers around town that Holland was interested in turning part of Ironhorse into a horse ranch.

That they’ve been buying horses. Then, yesterday, I saw a surveyor up on that land you sold to them, so I asked questions.

They said they worked for a contracting firm out of Jackson that was starting a large-scale project to build an outdoor and indoor arena and other things up there. ”

I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.

“What? And you didn’t say anything?”

“I was going to when I had all the facts. And proof. But then I saw Giles and … ”

“I thought he cared,” I whisper, mostly to myself.

Carl’s jaw tightens. “Yeah, well, men like him and Ludlow only care about one thing. Making money. And they don’t care who they have to screw over to get it.”

I stand up, stiff and slow. My hands tremble as I brush them down the front of my jeans. “I need to go.”

Carl doesn’t try to stop me. Just watches with sympathy in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Matty. Really.”

I walk past the bar, past the laughter, past the weight of betrayal settling on my shoulders. I don’t look at Caison as he approaches the hostess. I can’t bear to see the look on his face when he realizes what I’ve seen.

“Matty?” His voice rings out in surprise as I push through the double doors.

I just keep walking.

The cold air hits me like a physical slap as I break into a sprint.

“Matty, wait!”

I climb into my truck, lock the doors, and start the engine. I shift into drive and stomp on the gas pedal, shooting past him as he scans the parking lot.

The tears start to fall as I’m on the highway.

My phone starts ringing on the seat beside me. I don’t even bother looking at the screen. It’s either Caison or Carl, and I don’t want to talk to either of them at the moment. I just want to drive.

And I do.

Until the tears run dry.