Page 22 of Wrecked for Love (Buffaloberry Hill #1)

ELIA

I’d checked the weather and made sure everything was set for our date.

Now, I was heading out to pick Claire up.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been on a proper date.

Not that I’d missed the dating part, but the company of a good woman?

That I definitely missed. Hell, any rancher would.

The last time I’d been in a serious relationship was back in my early twenties.

Then came Log’s string of matchmaking disasters, and since then, I’d made it a point to steer clear of dates altogether.

Even though tonight was more about enjoying Claire’s company than actual courting, it didn’t stop the barnyard flutters from stirring up in my stomach. It wasn’t the date that made me edgy—it was Claire. And her choosing The Willow as her home? That just added another layer.

I hadn’t set foot inside that cottage in over ten years.

Even when I dropped her off the other day, just standing outside had taken effort.

But I could see the changes she’d made. The yellow curtains, the cushions on the porch chairs, the vase of sunflowers—it was brighter than I’d ever seen it.

A bit too much yellow for my taste, but the place was now filled with happiness—only her happiness.

As I pulled up, I gave the engine a good rev, hoping she’d hear me coming and save me from standing at the door.

Jumping out of my truck, I made sure my boots hit the ground with purpose—anything to get her attention before I had to press the bell.

By the time I reached the lowest step of the porch, Claire opened the door.

She took my breath away. The pink dress skimmed her curves with the right amount of temptation, the hemline teasing just above the knee. Frills framed the neckline and sleeves, not the over-the-top, girly kind, but subtle and elegant—enough to accentuate her natural beauty.

My eyes drifted lower, taking in her long, shapely legs, made even more alluring by those heels she wore. I’d suspected she’d wear them. They weren’t ideal for what I had in mind, but I was already prepared for that.

“What are you doing just standing there?” Claire smirked sideways, one hand on her hip.

“Waiting for you,” I replied.

She was so carefree. Maybe it was the Buffaloberry effect, or maybe it was me—I’d like to think it was me. Whatever the reason, when she opened her arms, I couldn’t resist. I stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug. The scent of her hair, fresh and divine, filled my lungs.

Her hands pressed firmly against my back, and for a moment, it felt like I was stepping into another life. The date hadn’t even started, but I was already breaking the cardinal rule—I wanted it to be so much more.

“Ready?” I asked as we finally let go.

“You don’t want to come in?” She motioned toward the open door. From where I stood, I could see how she’d transformed the living room. The soft yellows, sage tones, and neutral plaids in the upholstery made the place look like it belonged in a Country Living magazine spread.

“We should get going,” I said, trying to steady myself.

“Well, okay. Let me grab my purse.” She darted inside and returned in a flash with her purse in hand before locking the door behind her.

“You look amazing,” I said, offering my hand to help her up into the truck.

“And you look very handsome,” she replied, eyeing my checkered shirt—or maybe more what lay behind the slightly open buttons.

As we drove, the air between us buzzed with something unspoken, something exciting. Every now and then, I’d catch her adjusting her dress or smoothing her hair, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was doing it for me.

“So where are we going?” she asked.

I smirked and took a turn away from our actual destination. “That’s a secret.” Then, trying to sound casual, I added, “Hey, has Armand Voss been bothering you again?”

“No. Haven’t seen him around.”

“Good. Good.” I nodded, though I knew Armand too well. He wouldn’t stay gone for long. “Nobody else bothering you?”

“You mean asking me out on a date?” She shot me a wink.

“That too.”

She giggled. “No. It’s been quiet.”

I didn’t quite believe her. A woman as stunning as Claire in Buffaloberry Hill? She had to be getting date proposals left and right. But I was just glad she’d said yes to mine.

After taking a few random detours, I glanced over and said, “Okay, now close your eyes.”

She did so, trusting me completely.

I finally headed toward our real destination. “Keep them closed,” I instructed, noticing her fidgeting, clearly impatient—but in that happy, giddy way.

Then, a bark.

“Wait…is that…?”

Of course. That mutt just couldn’t help himself despite my frantic attempts earlier to get him to hush. Koda, always blowing my carefully laid plans. Claire was too sharp not to recognize that bark.

“Eyes closed! Eyes closed!” I half-laughed, half-pleaded, trying desperately to cling to the last shred of surprise. Sure, the dog might’ve given away a bit of the plan, but the spot itself? That was still a secret.

I stopped the truck, jumped out, and hurried around to her side.

“Can I open my eyes now?” she asked, her voice full of excitement.

“Nope, not yet!” I grinned, guiding her out of the truck and carefully along the path. “Okay…now open.”

She opened her eyes and gaped, speechless.

Her gaze swept over the small series of twinkling lights I’d strung between two trees, the lights crisscrossing above us like stars.

In the center of it all stood a table covered in a crisp white cloth, perfectly set with a vase of yellow roses at the center.

The cutlery and dinnerware were laid out just so, as if waiting for an intimate feast.

“Elia…this is so sweet and incredible,” she said, still taking it all in.

My full name, spoken in her soft voice. There was something about the way she said it tonight—it felt special, like hearing it for the first time all over again.

This time, it felt doubly so, like she was seeing all of me in that moment.

Her eyes drifted to the side, noticing the bottles of wine set neatly on a small wooden cart, the covered ingredients hinting at the barbecue to come, and the cushioned chairs with throw blankets draped over them, ready to ward off the evening chill.

She stepped closer and trailed her fingers along the edge of the table, the lights reflecting in her eyes. “You really went all out for this, didn’t you?”

I grinned, tipping my hat slightly. “Well, you don’t take a prize mare out to pasture. Come, sit down,” I said, pulling out a chair for her. “Want a blanket?”

“Yes, please.”

I draped the blanket around her shoulders, ensuring she was snug before I stoked the fire. Once satisfied with the flames, I returned to the table and stood beside it with the bottle cradled in my hand, my thumb and fingers expertly balanced on the neck like a pro sommelier. “Red or white?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

I raised a brow. “Miss Chili Pepper, following my lead? Now that’s a twist.”

She shot me a grin. “Hey, I’m letting you steer tonight. Better take advantage while you can.”

“Red it is.” I poured the Syrah, the wine swirling into the glasses. Taking my seat across from her, I raised mine. “To following the lead.”

She paused, her eyes flickering in the glow of the fire. “To letting go.”

Our glasses met with a soft clink, and through the shimmer of the wine, her smile reached me—genuine, unguarded.

Letting go. What did she mean by that? Control perhaps.

Or was it something else? The secrets she hadn’t yet voiced?

Either way, if she wanted to let go, I’d follow, letting her set the pace.

The last thing I wanted was for things to spiral—unraveling truths we weren’t ready for—and risk losing her altogether.

We eased into comfortable chatter, and I asked her how she was settling into Buffaloberry.

“It’s been good. Working at Paul’s has given me a nice routine. And the shelter—the animals help keep me grounded,” she said, absently tracing the rim of her glass with her finger.

“Mr. Gunn?”

She hitched a shoulder. “Well, he’s grown on me. He’s got a good heart. Besides, bedside manner doesn’t count for much when you’re surrounded by anxious dogs and finicky cats.”

“True,” I said, cocking my brows. “And how’s The Willow?”

“The Willow? It’s like the place I always dreamed about. You know, the kind of spot that’s always been a little abstract in your mind, but the moment you walk in, you just know it’s home. I thought I was done fixing it up, but now I think I might spruce up the second bedroom a bit.”

She was clearly in love with the place. Her face lit up every time she talked about it.

If this date went well, I’d be running out of excuses not to spend time with her there.

And I was determined to make sure it did go well.

Starting with a safe question, even if the second bedroom wasn’t exactly my favorite subject.

“That’s nice. What are you using the room for? ”

“I’m turning it into a study. The views are magnificent,” she said, her eyes brimming with ideas.

Ah, the views. I knew them all too well.

Logan and I used to crash in that room when we were kids, back when his grandma was still alive.

We’d stay up way too late, talking about the world beyond Buffaloberry.

Funny thing, though. When the time came for us to leave, neither of us ever did.

The town had us in its grip, always had.

But the house hadn’t been the same since Logan’s grandma passed.

The Willow had remained our escape—until the day I found Tessa in that bedroom.

Even more tragic, it had been my little brother, Noah, who found her first. I really wished he hadn’t—that day had truly broken him.

“I guess it’s hard to get a bad view in Buffaloberry Hill,” Claire said.

“You’re right about that,” I acknowledged, getting up with a grin. “Ready for the appetizer?”

“Absolutely!”