Page 52 of Saltwater Cowboy

The reality is, I don’t have a better option. Not yet.

The Coastal Cup gig was temporary, and the savings I have won’t stretch far. I’ll do this for a while—play house on the farm, save up, and then get the hell out before Wells realizes what a mistake he’s made.

The morning of the move has come way too fast. Between shifts at the Coastal Cup, helping with inventory at Sea Reads, and packing, the week disappeared in a blur.

Charlie’s truck is once again packed to the brim, every inch crammed with my too-many clothes and just-enough belongings.

“You ready to head over?” Blythe called from the front porch.

I shake my head. “I think I’ve changed my mind.” I turn toward the truck bed, fully prepared to start unloading, but Charlie steps in front of me, arms crossed.

Blythe makes her way over, her expression warm but unwavering. “It’s going to be so much better than you think,” she says. “You’ll learn new things. You won’t kill plants—”

“This feels like a college drop-off,” I interrupt, exhaling sharply. “You two are giving me a pep talk like my parents did.”

Blythe just smiled, wrapping me in a hug.

“Are you sure you can’t come?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

“You know I can’t. I have the book signing at Sea Reads. I need to head over there now.” She squeezed me tighter. “Text me tonight when you’re settled, okay?”

I nod, resting my head against her shoulder. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Rose.” Then, lowering her voice just for me, she adds, “This is going to be good for you. You might even be surprised. Wells isn’t the bad guy you make him out to be.”

I scoff. “We’ll see about that.”

“Ready to hit the road?” Charlie called from the driver’s seat.

With one last squeeze, I pull away from Blythe and climb into the truck. As we drive away, I watch the house fade from view, my stomach twisting with nerves.

The drive is quiet, except for the hum of the radio and the buzz of my own restless energy. Charlie and I sit in silence until he finally turns the volume down and glances my way.

“I promise he’s a good guy, Rose,” he says, his voice steady. “When Wren’s mom skipped town, Wells was the first one at my door. He helped me for weeks—watched Wren so I could work, made sure we had what we needed. When I didn’t think we’d make ends meet, he offered us money. His heart is bigger than it should be. Every time he puts his neck out for someone, he always gets burned.”

I swallow hard, staring out the window as the somewhat familiar backroads blur past.

Maybe Wells Calloway isn’t the villain I’ve made him out to be. But that doesn’t mean this is a good idea.

When we pull up, Wells is already waiting on the porch, leaning against the railing with that lazy confidence he always carries. A dog is at his feet, ears perked up, tail wagging.

Charlie threw the truck into park and hopped out like he’s coming home from a long trip. “Calloway,” he greeted with a nod.

Wells stepped down from the porch, his usual slow, confident stride in place. “Charles.”

There’s a pause before Charlie grinned and pulled Wells into one of those back-slapping bro hugs.

“You finally talked her into it, huh?” Wells asked, nodding toward me.

Charlie smirked. “She’s still convinced this is the worst decision of her life.”

“I’m standing right here!” I threw my hands up.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” he called over to me.

“Neither did I,” I mutter, stretching my stiff limbs.

Wells’ gaze slid to mine. “Give it a few weeks. You’ll never wanna leave.”