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“Anytime, Abraham. And remember, you don’t have to do this alone. Reach out if you need help.”
“Will you talk to Lucy?”
“What do you want me to say?”
He bit his lip, couldn’t meet my eyes, and instead stared out at his front yard and my car. “That I love her? No, that won’t sound right coming from you. Can you tell her I got this job, and I’m trying?”
“Sure, I can.”
And,when I left Lucy at Solomon’s house an hour later, she hugged me, cried, and thanked me for the message. I hoped that everything would calm down for her and Abraham and that they would return to being happy.
As I drove away, my thoughts wandered to the importance of community and the role I played in it. This is what Connor couldn’t see. It wasn’t all about good and bad guys, and it wasn’t black and white. It was community and understanding my place in it.
I’d do anything for this town.
Chapter Seventeen
CONNOR
I didn’tneedto ask Neil about Ezekiel Miller, but I’d use every excuse possible to see the hot, sexy sheriff. I couldn’t get the buttoned-up man out of my head. With every thought and every spare moment, Neil’s face invaded my mind. So, I’d fabricated a reason, knowing full well I’d run into him, and then crowded him against the door, hoping I might get a kiss.
I could have stolen a kiss.
I didn’t.
But God, I was hard, and even an hour of research into the bull riding circuit for my new job to find LouAnne’s ex-boyfriend failed to get Neil out of my head.
At least following Ezekiel’s trail to a fairground four hours south of Whisper Ridge got me focusing on driving, which was something, and by the time I ended up at the Red River Bull Riding Fairground, I wasn’t quite so hard or focused on Neil. The place wasn’t bustling with activity, but then it was midweek and out-of-season—nokids running around with cotton candy, but there was still that smell of fried food wafting through the air. I hadn’t watched rodeo much but knew it was a vast industry.
Ezekiel’s trailer was easy to find among a small cluster of semi-permanent mobile homes and RVs dotting the outskirts of the fairground. It was a modest, worn-down setup, with peeling paint and a small porch cluttered with gear and tools. A couple of empty soda cans sat beside a folding chair, and a bull riding poster flapped against the side in the wind.
I knocked on the door, and moments later, Ezekiel emerged. He was a sturdy man in his mid-thirties, with a sun-weathered face and hands that had seen their share of hard work. His jeans were frayed at the hems, and his boots looked like they’d been through hell and back. Despite his rough exterior, his friendly smile put me at ease. My research indicated he was a safety man responsible for distracting the bull after the rider was thrown. It seemed way more dangerous than being a SEAL, but each to his own.
“Hey there, name’s Connor,” I introduced myself, offering a hand.
Ezekiel shook my hand firmly. “Zeke, what can I do for you?”
“I’m here from Whisper Ridge.”
His demeanor changed as quick as a flash. The friendliness faded, replaced by a flicker of anxiety.
“Is it LouAnne? Is she okay? Jesus, is it Archie?” his voice was tight with concern.
I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. “They’re both fine,” I lied because besides what I needed to know regarding a connection to Quinn through Archie, I didn’t know much about LouAnne herself, just that Archie was a good kid.
Ezekiel ran a hand through his hair, clearly uneasy. “LouAnne… she’s had a tough go of it. Alcohol and … yeah… Archie, poor kid.”
“You have a daughter. Grace?”
He glanced behind him through the open door and shut it before approaching me.
“What about Grace? She’s not LouAnne’s, she’s mine, and I’m with Essie now.” His hands were fists, but I stepped back and kept my expression neutral.
“It’s Archie?—”
“You said he was okay.”
“He is, but he asked me to track you down.”
