Page 24 of Something Tangled Something True (Rosa Ranch #1)

HEAVENS TO BETSY!

The sun is rising on the horizon, and the morning air has a sharp edge to it, crisp and biting, the kind that doesn’t linger long after the sun rises.

My boots crunch over dew-covered grass as I make my way to the north fence.

Dad called early this morning, letting me know the horses had been restless last night, pacing the pasture, their whinnies cutting through the quiet like warning bells.

Animals always know first when something is off, and something definitely feels wrong to me.

Dad had been worried, but he didn’t get a chance to make it down here to check it out because he couldn’t get ahold of Zeke.

I wonder where Ezekiel was since he’s never far from the ranch.

The thought is fleeting as the fence comes into view, and my gut clenches.

Even from fifty feet away, I can see the problem.

The wire sags unnaturally, curling like it had given up on holding itself together.

I continue my approach, peering around, as if something, or someone , might jump out of nowhere.

The tension wire has been cut clean, too clean. This wasn’t wear and tear or an accident. Someone had done this deliberately.

I crouch down to get a better look, running a finger over the edge of the wire. Smooth. Fresh. My jaw tightens as a chill creeps up my spine, and it has nothing to do with the cool air.

The ranch stretches out around me, wide open, and what I’d usually consider peaceful under the pale morning light. But it doesn’t feel peaceful. I feel exposed. Vulnerable.

The horses are clustered closer to the barn than usual, their ears twitching and heads bobbing nervously. They aren’t relaxed; they’re waiting, waiting for me to tell them everything is okay.

But I’m not so sure it is.

I pull the pliers from my tool belt and start fixing the wire, my movements quick and precise. I’ve done this a thousand times before, but today, it feels different, like the air itself is holding its breath. I’m hyperaware of every creak and whistle of wind.

I finish up, and a flash of silver near the fencepost catches the light from the rising sun, glinting off it enough to momentarily blind me.

I step closer, kneeling to get a better look.

A knife . Small, practical, the kind you’d pick up at a hardware store without thinking twice. But it isn’t mine, and no one who belongs on this ranch would leave something like this behind.

I turn it over in my hand, the handle smooth, the blade clean, save for a streak of dirt. My chest tightens as I scan the horizon, my gaze locking on the tree line at the edge of the property. The shadows are longer now, stretching across the grass like they want to pull me in.

Blades of grass dance in the wind, a faint but unmistakable scent fluttering around me.

A clean, earthy cologne like patchouli .

No one on the ranch wears cologne while working with the animals. Not out here, not when the wind carries scents for miles.

A cold knot forms in my stomach, twisting tighter with each breath. This isn’t an accident. It isn’t random.

Someone was here.

And they want me to know it.

I gather my tools, heading into the stables to check on the horses, and spend the rest of the day trying to push the thought from my head.

When the sun starts to set, I hurry to my truck and make it to town just before Ever After is due to close for the day.

The bell over the door rings loudly as I enter Ever After Boutique, filled wall-to-wall with dresses for every occasion.

“Ryder Lockhart, is that you?” Betsy, the ancient woman who’s owned this place longer than I’ve been alive, asks.

“It sure is, Betsy. It’s good to see you,” I tell her with a warm smile.

“Come here and give me some sugar,” she drawls, opening her arms wide for me. I give her a tight hug and straighten. “Now, what can I do for you?” She pats my cheek and sits on her stool behind the counter covered in fabric swatches.

“Mayte dropped by with a wedding dress she was returning today.” She nods, waiting for me to continue. “Any chance I could purchase it from you?”

Her face contorts, confusion written plainly across her features. “Sure, hun. Might I ask why?”

“Lola and I got hitched, and I know it would mean a lot to her if she could keep it.”

Her light brows shoot up her forehead. “ Lola Lima? ”

I nod. “Yes, ma’am, the one and only.” My lips don’t get the memo that we’re playing it cool; just the mere mention of this woman has me grinning ear to ear.

Not only do I get to surprise my girl, but now the rumor mill will effectively spread the news for us. We won’t have to lift a finger.

“Well, my, my, Ryder. I always knew you’d get the girl,” she says brightly, hopping off her stool and making her way toward the back, disappearing behind a door that reads “staff”.

When she returns, she’s carrying a large white box with a blush-pink bow tied around it. “I just finished dry cleaning it. It’s all yours, on the house.”

I shake my head. “No, ma’am. That’s too kind, and I’m happy to pay for it.”

“I’ve known your momma a long time, young man, so I know she taught you manners.

Accept the gift, hun. Think of it as a wedding present.

Besides, you’ve done more for me and this shop than you realize.

You were always a good boy, and I’d love her to have this.

Please, take it.” She pushes the box into my arms; I wrap my hands around it, holding it to my chest.

“Thank you, Betsy,” I tell her with a small smile I hope conveys just how thankful I really am.

“You’re very welcome. Now, get home to that wife of yours.” She smiles, shooing me out of the store.

By the time I get home, Lola’s in the kitchen, swaying her hips to music playing in her earbuds.

Long ringlets fall around her heart-shaped face in a stunning cascade of curls.

It’s the same rich, dark brown that has always artfully painted her head, sun-kissed streaks of chestnut and iridescent gold drawing out the olive undertones in her smooth complexion.

She’s wearing one of my t-shirts that hits her mid-thigh as she stirs a pot, and my mouth is watering, but not for food.

She spins, hearing the door shut behind me, her eyes wide with surprise. “Hey! You’re home early.”

I smile, setting the box down on the dining room table behind her. “What’s all this?”

“I figured I’d surprise you by making dinner tonight.”

“It smells delicious, darlin’. Thank you,” I tell her, sincerity lacing my words. A grin pulls at the corners of my mouth as my gaze trails down her body. Her tan legs are bare, and the sight of her in my shirt has me damn near losing my mind. “And what’s that you’ve got on?” I ask with a smirk.

She looks down at herself, suddenly aware of how short my shirt really is on her. She tugs at the hem, but she meets my smirk with one of her own. “It was in with my laundry, and I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Goddamn, this woman. “I don’t mind at all, darlin’. What’s mine is yours,” I assure her.

“Thanks,” she says sheepishly, that pretty blush swirling on her cheeks. She tucks a rampant strand of hair behind her ear, and my belly warms at the sight of her.

I clear my throat. “Why don’t you go take a seat at the table, and I’ll serve us up this fine meal you’ve made?”

She gives me a shy smile, tucking her chin as she pulls her chair out.

She sets her hands on the box I left, and her gaze flicks up to me. “What’s this?”

“Go ahead and open it.”