Page 2 of Broken Reins (Whittier Falls #4)

Two

Ford

A rmed with a to-go cup of Campfire’s coffee, I stepped back outside and into the Montana sun, but immediately felt a chill. I didn't even have to look back to know I was being watched.

You spend enough time as the town's favorite son, then the town's biggest disappointment, and you get used to the prickle at the base of your neck.

Places like Whittier are designed for it—the way sound carries, the way stories bounce off storefronts and lodge in the corners of every window.

People love their gossip. By the time I hit the sidewalk, it felt like all of Whittier Falls was staring at my back.

The coffee steamed in my hand, burning my palm through the cup.

I stopped a moment, drinking it in, the liquid scorching my throat as the cold whipped at my face.

I exhaled, tried to relax my shoulders, and almost convinced myself I could walk away clean.

Then I heard it: the echo of my name, just above a whisper, from a group of ladies at the patio table. "Ford Brooks. That's him, right?"

I ignored it, but the sound stuck. The way old wounds stick.

The air was sharp, even by Montana standards. My truck sat across the street, sparkling and new and wildly out of place between the dust-covered pickups of ranchers. I started across, but that's when I saw them.

Gray and Damon.

They were outside the hardware store, about a hundred feet down Main.

Gray leaned against the hood of his own truck, arms crossed, blue eyes locked on me like he was waiting to see if I'd flinch.

Damon stood next to him, hands on his hips, broad shoulders blocking half the damn sidewalk.

Neither one of them said anything, but they didn't have to. Their whole bodies talked.

I hadn't seen either of them since before I'd left, and I had no idea what I'd expected—maybe a handshake, maybe a punch—but the stillness was worse than either. I slowed down, not sure if I wanted to make it to the truck after all.

I tried to look past them, but my eyes kept coming back.

Gray’s face was weathered, and his jaw was even sharper than I remembered, but the rest was the same—boots, scuffed jeans, that rancher's toughness like he was built from rock.

Damon was bigger, if possible, hair cropped close and jaw clenched tight enough to break teeth.

They watched me the way you watch a coyote when you're not sure if it's going to run or bite.

For a second, I thought about crossing over, saying something. About the old times, about how stupid it all was. Maybe even an apology, even though I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be sorry for.

But then Gray did something that settled it. He turned his back.

Just rotated on his heel and walked inside the store, leaving Damon out there, holding the sidewalk like a sentry.

The message couldn't have been clearer if he'd spelled it out in paint. Not welcome. Not anymore.

That did it. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I didn’t just ignore them both and get in my truck and drive far away. But too much that had been building up for years inside me wrestled to get out.

I put my coffee down on the curb and headed straight for Damon. His eyebrow quirked in surprise for just a moment before he schooled his face.

“Damon,” I said before I reached him.

“I’d ask what the fuck you’re doing back here but I don’t give enough of a shit.”

“Yeah, that much’s been clear for two decades.” I don’t know why I said it. I was the one who left. But there was that pain built up in me, bubbling over, trying to break free.

Damon huffed out a humorless laugh. That should have been my first clue to move back. He was always a quiet one, and when he made noise, you knew something was about to happen. But it had been too long for me to remember that, and my reflexes weren’t good enough.

His fist came flying toward my face in less than a breath. Pain radiated from my jaw to my spine to pretty much everywhere else. I staggered back, but caught myself from landing on the ground—the only redeeming moment of the entire embarrassing ordeal.

“What the hell?” I heard Sutton’s voice yell from across the street.

Footsteps followed more than just hers from the sound of it, but the show was already over. Damon was already five paces back, his hands up in mock surrender. Gray had rejoined his side, giving him a stern look.

“Get back to work, Sutt. Nothin’ to see here,” Damon said to his sister. She rolled her eyes at him, then turned to me. “You’re back for less than an hour and already got punched. Might be a record.”

“S’okay. He did what he needed to do.”

“Men are idiots,” she said to someone behind me. “Lily, can you help him sit down and keep an eye on him while I go get some ice?”

“Of course.” The voice was soft, angelic, and far too sweet to be meant for me.

“Don’t go to no trouble, I’m fine.”

“Shut up, Ford,” Sutton said before jogging back across the street.

“Here, let me help you.” Lily’s slender arm slid through mine and she guided me to a bench along the sidewalk.

She was barely touching me, but my skin was on fire.

We were close enough that I could smell the vanilla on her, and not just from the bakery, but from her shampoo or perfume.

Something personal, intimate, that she chose for herself.

That little bit of knowledge had me stiffening in my pants.

Now I risked looking like a troublemaker and a fucking creep.

But she didn’t seem to notice, removing her touch from me as soon as my ass touched the bench.

I felt her eyes on me, but didn’t risk looking up to confirm it.

“You don’t have to wait here.”

“Oh, yeah I’m not going anywhere. I’m afraid Sutton will scold me if I do.”

I laughed, and nodded, the pain in my jaw reeling again from the motion. I cringed at myself and that shot another streak of pain up to my cheekbone. I let out a sigh.

“Not that I don’t enjoy the company, just don’t wanna take up anymore of your day with my sorry ass, is all.” I did look up now, and caught the corner of her mouth twitch up as she tried to suppress a smile.

“Well, usually my days are pretty boring. So thanks for the entertainment.”

I resisted laughing, but couldn’t stop the smile.

Something about her soft voice mixed with that little bit of sarcasm caught me off guard.

I wanted to know more. But I was in no shape to demand it.

Hell, she probably found me entertaining in the kind of way you get second-hand embarrassment from watching.

“Here, I’ve got some ice,” I heard Sutton call from behind us. I watched Lily look up, saw a sliver of sunlight through the trees shift onto the nape of her neck. I wanted to press my lips against that neck.

Sutton handed me a baggie of ice, the kind you toss in a lunch cooler. “Put this on your jaw or you’ll look like a cartoon villain by tomorrow morning.” She grinned, but worry flickered in her eyes. I pressed it to my face.

Lily was sitting on the edge of the bench, her knees angled away, but she kept glancing over at me like she was waiting for me to start howling or maybe pass out. “I can get you some Advil if you want,” she said.

I shook my head. “Nah, I’ve had worse.” I removed the ice from my face, causing Lily to make a disapproving sound. She scooted closer and took the ice bag from me, lifting it to my jaw with a softer hand than I had.

"I got it," I said, though honestly the idea of Lily hovering over me for five solid minutes wasn’t the worst fate I could imagine.

“For it to do anything, you have to keep it there for longer than thirty seconds,” she deadpanned.

Sutton snorted. I gave her a look, but she just raised her eyebrows, looking at Lily and then back to me again.

That wasn’t good. Sutton had a knack for picking up on cues, and an even bigger knack for being annoying about it.

I slipped my hand under Lily’s—refusing to acknowledge how soft her skin was—and took over icing duties, trying my damndest not to look as pathetic as I felt.

“I promise I’ll keep it here.”

She let go, backing up on the bench. “Good. Well, I should get back to work.” Before I could think of anything charming to say, she practically sprinted across the street and up the steps into Campfire’s front door.

“Well . . .” Sutton said with a smirk. “That was interesting.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

I grunted. She wasn’t wrong. Something about Lily interested me a whole hell of a lot. But with this homecoming being more explosive than I anticipated, I had other things to worry about. And a soft-spoken barista with doe eyes would surely only be a distraction.