Flawless (Chestnut Springs, #1)(7)

He smiles and reaches forward to clap me on the shoulder. “You’re not Peter Pan, Rhett. You won’t be losing your shadow. Not for the next two months.”

My mind reels. He can’t mean . . .

“Where you go, she goes.”

Kip gives me a vicious smile, not the one he gave me when I walked in the room. No, this one is full of warning. “And Eaton, that girl is my daughter. My princess. So, mind your goddamn manners, keep your hands to yourself, and stay the hell out of trouble, yeah?”

The snarky princess is supposed to live at the ranch with me? Good God, this is so much worse than I imagined.

My weekend has been on a downhill spiral ever since that fucking video, and when I storm out of the shiny office, it doesn’t get any better because I forgot to plug the meter on that great parking spot I got.





3





Summer





Summer: Heading out there now.

Dad: Be safe. Don’t let that asshole in your pants.

Summer: I’m really more of a skirt gal.

Dad: -_-





“Okay, wait. How long are you going to be gone?”

“I mean, I’m not gone, Wils. I’m like an hour outside of the city. The drive to your barn isn’t that much less from where you live.”

“I need notice for things like this. Who am I supposed to go for boozy brunches with? What if I find a whole new best friend while you’re gone?”

I laugh at that. My best friend has a flair for the dramatic. It’s part of her charm. “Then I guess you never really loved me,” I reply wistfully.

“This is the worst news. For me anyway. You’re probably all giddy and wet in the panties. Remember that photo you—”

“Willa, please. That was a long time ago. I’m an adult. I’m a professional. Hot athletes are my job every day. Don’t make this weird for me.”

She groans. “Why do you have to be so responsible? And mature? It makes me feel like a child.”

“You’re not a child. Possibly more like a teenager?” I peer around, trying to make sure I catch the right turn because the dusty back roads aren’t the most well-marked. But I see the range road sign up ahead and turn just in time, tires wobbling on the gravel.

“I guess I can live with that. Growing up is the worst. It’s just not for me, you know?”

I laugh at that. Willa is plenty grown up. She’s just playful. She’s fun. She’s good for me. “You run a tight ship with all the guys at the bar. I think you’re more grown up than you realize.”

“Take that back!” She laughs before adding, “And bang the cowboy. Do it.”

Willa has always been the one to loosen me up, the one to pick me up when I’m down, the one to rub my back when I cried over Rob.

But sometimes she’s also wrong.

“You want me to ruin my budding career to sleep with my teenaged celebrity crush, who by all appearances hates my guts? Thanks. I’ll take that under advisement.”

“That’s all I’m asking, ya know?” We chuckle together, like we have for the past fifteen years. I don’t have a lot of friends. But I’d rather have one Willa than an entire pack of people who don’t truly get me.

I catch sight of a driveway up ahead and slow to read the numbers on the fence. “I gotta go. I’ll text later.”

“You better. Love you.”

“Love you back,” I say absently before sighing with relief that the numbers are a match for what Rhett wrote on the piece of paper. I click off my Bluetooth and turn into the driveway, ready to face whatever mess I’ve been roped into by my father.

The raw-post fences that line the property usher me in through the main gate where those posts rise high above the driveway. The beam that crosses over the top is adorned with a wrought iron sign in the shape of a wishing well. And attached by two narrow chains, dangling beneath, is a slab of wood with the words Wishing Well Ranch branded into it.

The land around Chestnut Springs is truly something to behold. I feel like I’ve been transported onto the set of Yellowstone. And I’m downright giddy about it. Goodbye stuffy office, hello endless land.

Does Rhett Eaton look at me like I’m roadkill?

Yes.

But am I excited about getting out of the office and doing something different?

Also, yes.

I’m going to enjoy the hell out of this. I’m going to take the bull by the horns on this assignment. I chuckle at my joke as I reach forward and turn down the volume on The Sadies album I had blasting before Willa called me.

I peer around and slow my SUV to a crawl. My head is on a swivel as the gravel crunches and pops beneath my tires. I swear the view out every window is better than the last. March in Southern Alberta still has some bite. It can be cold and snowy, but then a chinook can roll in, and the air grows warm and soft against your skin. The grass isn’t lush yet. It’s just fields upon fields of this mossy brown color. Like you can see the green lurking beneath, ready to pop. But not quite yet.

For now, there’s something monotone about the gently rolling fields that blend up into the gray peaks to the west. The Rocky Mountains provide a border to the foothills, jutting up all jagged and snow-capped with pristine white peaks.