Page 41 of SEAL of Valor

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? You can hang with us,” Katelyn offers.

“I’m sure, but thanks for the offer. It was so nice to meet you both.” With a smile, I move past them and toward the sidewalk.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Weston says, continuing along with me without waiting for an invitation.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Carey and his buddies may be lingering near the street. I want to make sure they don’t hassle you.” He says it very matter-of-factly, not giving any room for argument. And because I would really appreciate not having another run-in with Carey or his ridiculously immature posse, I don’t push back.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Side-by-side, we move down the crowded street, two strangers who once knew each other better than anyone. The farther out of town we get, the more the crowd thins, until just ahead, the lot where my car is parked comes into view.

“Have you talked to Weston since?” Tessa’s words come flooding back, and my stomach churns.

Should I try again?

Or will he just throw it back in my face all over again?

We reach my car, so I unlock the door, then turn to face Weston. “I wasn’t expecting Lyle to kiss me. We were just friends.”

“Who?”

“Lyle Winslow. The guy in the suit you saw, who dropped me off outside my apartment in Charleston. I smiled at him because I was trying to let him down easy. I just wanted you to know that.”

Weston nods. “Have a good night, Reese.”

“You, too. Thanks again.”

He offers me a half wave, then shoves both hands into his pockets before heading off into the dark—in the opposite direction of the festival.

Chapter 12

Weston:

Wind whips all around me as I fight to get the last of the paddock doors shut and locked. We knew this storm was coming, and it started up a few hours before we expected it. I’ve been up since four this morning, boarding up windows and securing loose patio furniture on Vivian’s porch and my own.

Then it was on to ranch prep. And since we still haven’t hired a new ranch hand, most of the work falls on me. Though Kyle did show up here first thing this morning to help with the barn closest to the pastures. The three horses out there have all earned their retirement from ranch work. Given their experience, they don’t tend to get too bothered by the storms anymore. Which is why I sent him out there instead of here.

As I make my way out of the paddock and around to close up the main barn door, the rain starts. Falling in heavy sheets, it slams into me, drenching me from head to toe before I even reach the barn for cover.

Aside from Buttercup and Bobby—a blue roan gelding we’ve had on the ranch for just over a year—the horses are an anxious mess. Two of the other mares and our only other gelding shift nervously in their stalls, calling out every few seconds. One of the mares—Hetty—keeps slamming her foot back into the walls every time there’s a clap of thunder. I gave her an herbal blend meant to calm her down, so I’m honestly hoping that kicks in before she manages to hurt herself.

“Easy, guys. You’re fine. It’s just a little storm.” I flip on the soft lights in the breezeway so they won’t be in the dark, then start toward the large bay door so I can get it sealed up and go check on Kyle.

After that, we’re home free, and I can ride out what the weather crew is calling the worst storm to hit us in a decade in my cabin.

Fantastic.

“Mr. Hayes!” Kyle yells over the wind, so I turn toward him as he comes sprinting toward me, a panicked expression on his face. Rain has drenched him, soaking every inch of his clothing and the hat on top of his head.

“What is it?”

“The cows! There are some in the west pasture!”

“What? No, they’re all in the south pasture.” There’s plenty of shelter out there for them, and if this storm’s going to be as bad as they said this morning, then they’ll need every bit of it. Since the west pasture is used only for quick rotations, it has little more than a shack as a break from the sun.