Page 58 of Whispers of Sweetwater

‘We’ll be ready,’ Brianna offered. ‘Whatever comes.’

Tilly nodded, then gave a dry chuckle. ‘You know, if this all turns out to be nothing, I’ll gladly look like the paranoid mum with too many crime novels under her belt. But if it’s not …’ She let the sentence hang, unfinished. Then she quietly added, ‘Please watch your back, Bri. And keep your phone close. Always. Just in case.’

Before Brianna could reply, the bell over the café door jingled again.

They both turned.

Tom Marks stepped inside.

Having met him and his lovely wife at the community shindig with Molly a few weeks earlier, Brianna knew he was local through and through, and the owner of a rural transport company on the western fringe of town. Apparently everyone knew him. But even though he’d come across as grounded, gentlemanly, kind, something about him now, the way he walked, the way he looked around, felt off-kilter. Abnormal. Unsettled. Keeping his gaze pinned to the counter, he strode towards it, exchanged a few quiet words with Molly, and then passed her a folded slip of paper. She nodded and her face was momentarily unreadable. Then he turned and walked straight towards Brianna and Tilly’s table.

Without a hello, he leant in just slightly and said, ‘You’re asking a lot of questions for someone new to town, Miss Steele. You might want to slow down, stick to yourself, not attract attention, yeah?’

Lost for words, Brianna just looked at him.

Then he nodded, gaze fixed on Brianna as if trying to drive home what he’d just said, then turned and walked out.

A beat passed. Brianna and Tilly sat frozen with their eyes locked on the door, then they looked back to where Molly emerged from behind the counter, her hands trembling slightly as she approached their table. Wide-eyed, she placed a plain envelope down in front of Brianna.

‘Tom just dropped this off,’ she said, her voice quiet but tight. ‘It’s addressed to me. And it’s Jack’s handwriting. I’d know it anywhere.’ She tapped the envelope with her fingertip.

Brianna blinked, completely taken aback by everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes. Of course she didn’t recognise the handwriting, but the way Molly stared at her name, like the cursive handwriting had brought a ghost back from the grave, sent a shiver down her spine.

Tilly leant in too, eyes narrowing. ‘What do you think it is, Moll?’

Her bottom lip caught between her teeth, Molly didn’t answer right away. But then she said, ‘Only one way to find out, I suppose. But not until I close the café, and only then.’

Brianna glanced towards the door, then back down to the envelope. Tom hadn’t seemed threatening just now. Not exactly. It was more like he was warning her. Like he knew something, and didn’t want anyone getting hurt.

She looked up at Molly, noting how her friend’s lips trembled. Reaching out, she took Molly’s hands in hers. ‘I’ll be with you, if you like, when you open it.’

CHAPTER 15

Hayden ran the flat of his hand down Maverick’s withers, the foal’s skin twitching beneath his touch. The colt was growing fast – strong legs, eyes sharp with curiosity, and a defiant little streak that reminded Hayden too much of himself when he was a teenager. Duchess nickered nearby, grazing lazily under the shade of a yellow gum, her tail flicking at the occasional fly.

‘Steady, boy,’ he murmured as Maverick jerked his head, testing the tension of the halter rope. ‘You’re not ready to be king of the paddock just yet.’

He worked the foal gently, leading him in a loose circle, keeping his movements calm and even. Early halter training helped with future handling and leading. It was crucial to do it gently and gradually, earning the foal’s trust, not forcing it, while ensuring Maverick grew comfortable with the process. The ritual of training helped to settle his thoughts, which had been tangling themselves into knots since Craig Dunlop had shown up on his verandah. But what really haunted him this morning wasn’t the copper. It was the memory of a dumber version of himself. And the damn dare. He could still hear Gavin’s voice from that night. The pub had been rowdy, a Friday with too much beer and not enough judgement. And with too many ghosts in his rear-view, he’d stupidly, thoughtlessly, taken the bet. Only it wasn’t just a bet about him wooing any woman.

It was about wooing the stunning, intelligent, fascinating Miss Brianna Steele.

He hadn’t known then what he knew now. How she’d burrow her way into his days without trying. How she’d turn up at the edge of his paddocks or his thoughts without warning. How the sight of her in her mud-splattered boots, with sun-warmed skin, and that spark behind her eyes, could hit him like a punch to the chest, or how just a harmless flutter of her lashes could undo him in ways he’d never imagined possible. And how her laugh didn’t just undo the tension in his shoulders, it loosened knots in his soul he didn’t realise were still tied. Just by being her natural, kind, awesome self, she made the ghosts fade. Casey’s shadow didn’t vanish, but it didn’t haunt him the same way when Brianna was nearby. The weight he carried, the guilt, the regret, the loneliness, it felt lighter when she was around. That weight wasn’t gone. Just more bearable.

And that scared the hell out of him.

Because the truth was, Brianna made him feel something that had nothing to do with guilt or grief. No, it was something terrifying in its simplicity. It was hope. The kind that crept in when you weren’t looking, then refused to leave. He’d started picturing things he had no business imagining. Her at Sweetwater Acres more often. Her boots by the back door. Her laughter echoing off these paddocks for years, not days. Her being the mother of his future children. Becoming his wife. His life. His future. The very woman he’d sit with, at a ripe old age, reminiscing about their wonderful life together.

And god help him, he liked the picture way too much.

But even if by some miracle she felt the same, it couldn’t start with a lie. If he ever wanted something real with Brianna Steele, he’d have to come clean about the dare, and that meant risking everything. Because no matter how innocent it had seemed at the time, it would never look that way now. Not to her. Not after everything they’d been through. He could already imagine her reaction if and when he told her his dirty secret. The flash of hurt in her eyes, the betrayal. And it tore at something inside him. Terrified him beyond words. So, in an act of cowardice, he’d stayed quiet. He knew Brianna deserved way better than that. Likely better than he’d ever be able to give her. And with that heartbreaking thought, he sighed, as if a weight had just landed on his shoulders. He needed to get a grip on himself and his runaway emotions.

Maverick nudged his arm, headbutting gently like he was demanding more attention, and Hayden smiled despite himself as he scratched the colt’s forehead. ‘All right, all right. Sorry, buddy, I was a million miles away. We’re almost done here.’

The foal whinnied softly and pawed at the dirt, as if protesting the end of their session. Hayden chuckled, reached into his back pocket and pulled out a halved apple. Maverick’s ears perked, and he nuzzled closer, munching happily from Hayden’s palm.

‘You’re a little charmer,’ Hayden muttered affectionately. ‘Just like your mum.’

He rubbed behind the colt’s ears and stood quietly for a moment, watching Maverick crunch through the last of the apple. For all the chaos spinning around him – the mysteries, the memories, the slow burn of something real with Brianna – this, at least, was pure. Honest. And worth protecting.