An exhausted cheer escapes as I crouch to grab a jar of almond butter, and flip it over, reading the ingredients.Gluten-free. Thank the snack Gods.
Sighing in relief, I tuck it in the crook of my arm and grab three more jars, just in case they’re out the next time I shop, then push to stand. My shoulder bumps the cart handle, and I stumble, dropping the jars.
They roll in four opposite directions, and my body sort of just… gives up.
Or, maybe it’s me.
I fall to my ass, the skirt of my dress puddling around me like a white waterfall of depression. My back hits the shelves a second before my head, and I close my eyes, breathing through the sudden need to sob between the tuna cans and tampons.
This store really is backward.
Suddenly, the weight of the last month crashes down on me, heavy and unbearable. Maybe this whole damn idea was a mistake. Why the hell did I think coming to South Dakota alone, to find my long lost family, was a good idea?
I’m floundering here.
All I wanted was to finally feel like I fit in somewhere, like I have roots and branches, a whole family tree. But all I’ve found is dead end after dead end. Even the Heart Springs cemetery was a bust.
“You know, the mop here’s as ancient as the floors they clean,” a deep voice rumbles, making me jump.
I smack my head against the shelf and wince as half the gluten-free section reacts like it’s under attack.
Jars clatter to the floor around me. Boxes shift and tumble. Something plastic bounces off my boot and glides down the aisle, like it’s trying to escape.
Blinking up through my straightened hair—now half-stuck to my face—I find the last person I want to see while emotionally compromised and surrounded by spilled snacks.
Kade Archer stands at the end of the aisle, arms crossed, one brow raised like my mental breakdown inconveniences him.
“Jesus, freckles.” His mouth twitches. “I leave you alone for a few days and you bring down a whole aisle. You always cause this much damage, or is the food just scared of you?”
My cheeks flame red hot, and my brain chooses that exact moment to remind me of what I did the last time I let myself think of him. I like to pretend it was just the tutorial—the overtly sexual innuendos provided by the bombshell, and the moaning and groaning Brannon supplied, but…
I know the truth.
And the truth is standing five feet away, glowering down at me with a big, perfect beard, giant muscles, and—oh look, he’s wearing his cowboy hat today.
Brilliant. More material for my rub hub. That’s the last thing my demented ass needs.
“Let me guess,” Kade says, stepping closer, boots crunching softly over something crushed and probably expensive. “They just jumped off the shelf the second they saw you.” He smirks. “Happen often?”
“Wow,” I hiss. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even more annoying in fluorescents.”
I grit my teeth and swipe a sleeve over my eyes like I’m just brushing back my hair. The last thing I need is for this man—a man I stupidly, accidentally almost came to thoughts of, to see me crying.
And because today is the worst day of all days, he zeroes in on those barely-there tears like it’s a sixth sense.
His smirk fades and he drops to a crouch in front of me.
“You okay?” he murmurs, grimacing. “You look…”
“Lovely,” I bite out, scrambling to stand. “The word you’re looking for is love—” My boot catches the hem of my dress, and I slip.
A strong hand closes around my arm just before I fall again. I land against his chest with a muted thud, heart thundering, breath caught.
His fingers flex gently, steadying me.
“Georgia,” he says again, quieter. “You okay?”
The warmth in his voice undoes me. My eyes sting, throat tight, and I yank my arm free like his touch burns.
