Catalina
Dramatic, are we?
I type back, shaking my head. Another message comes in before I can blink.
Carter
I don’t share what’s mine.
The words hit me harder than I expect, slamming into my chest like a fucking freight train.
Catalina
Are you jealous?
Carter
Watch yourself, darlin’.
I stare at my phone with my jaw practically on the floor, my heart hammering way too hard for my own good. I’m still calling bullshit. He’s supposed to be busy today, out on the ranch with Maverick shoveling hay and wrangling those new heifers for breeding season. No way he’s here.
Still, a slow heat curls low in my belly, my fingers twitch like they want to text something reckless back. But, I slam my phone face down on the bar instead. I have shit to do.
The last callhad come and gone, the final few stragglers stumbling out of the door with slurred goodbyes and half-hearted promises to “see ya next weekend.”
The bar was finally empty, the lively hum of voices and clinking glasses now replaced by the low flicker of the neon sign buzzing above the door and the distant sound of crickets singing in the dark.
I sighed, stretching my arms high above my head, feeling the dull ache settle deep into my bones. My fucking feet throb, my lower back is screaming, and all I want is a long, hot bubble bath with a glass of champagne big enough to drown myself in. But first, I had to finish closing this damn bar.
I move thoroughly through the empty bar, wiping down sticky tables, the stubborn scent of whiskey and fried food still hanging thick in the air. I gather empty beer bottles, tossing them into the trash, muttering curses under my breath at people who can’t seem to clean up after themselves.
Dragging my tired legs toward the register, I grab the money pouch, stuffing the night’s earnings inside to lock away in Reed’s office. I exhale heavily as I step into the office, snatching up my purse and jacket, already picturing myself curled up in bed under a mountain of blankets.
Finally,finally, I beeline toward the front door, desperate to get the hell out—When the sharp scrape of a chair dragging across the floor stops me dead in my tracks. My heart leaps into my throat.
Someone was still here.
I spin around, pulse hammering as I scan the dimly lit room. Every shadow looks too big, too close. My eyes dart side to side, dry and burning from how hard I’m searching. Panic prickles along the back of my neck until a low, familiar chuckle cuts through the silence.
I whip my head around, ready to throw my keys at whoever it was, only to lock eyes withhim.
Carter, sitting there like he owns the damn place, his long legs stretched out casually, arms folded over his broad chest, as a cocky smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“What the actual fuck, Carter?” I snap, storming toward him. “Are you trying to give me a goddamn heart attack?”
He shrugs lazily, his blue eyes glinting under the low light. “Maybe if you paid more attention, princess, you wouldn’t be so jumpy.”
I narrow my eyes at him, my voice sharp, “What are you even doing here?”
He only tilts his head, that maddening smirk still playing at the edges of his mouth.
I plant a hand on my hip, pointing an accusatory finger toward the door. “And how the hell did you even get here? I have your fucking truck.”
Still, he said nothing as he just stared at me, that heated, unreadable look sinking into the pit of my stomach like a live grenade ready to blow. I scoff, spinning on my heel and stomping back toward the bar.
“Oh, let me guess—you’re pissed someone was flirting with me tonight?” I mutter loud enough for him to hear as I grab a bottle of whiskey. “Get the fuck over it.”
I could feel his eyes tracking every move I made, his silence louder than any argument he could have thrown at me.
