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I was honest with her before—I didn’t want to hurt her. But it’s obvious I already have. I saw the wound inside those big, blue eyes of hers as clear as Lake Wiloughby. Just as clearly as I saw her admiration for me.

She and her dad have that in common, their expressions conveying their feelings perfectly.

I stare at the closed door a minute longer, debating whether or not to wait to talk to her when she comes out, but her dad isn’t going to let me anywhere near her now. I’ve lost my chance to talk to her for good. I can’t even think of a way to get back at the mayor, every prank falling flat in my dejected state.

Walking out of the hospital, I head to my truck. I can still smell subtle hints of her flowery perfume as I buckle and see the dusty boots left on the floor where she sat. I toss my hat onto the passenger seat, the emptiness of it mirroring the hollow hole inside me.

I really messed up. I didn’t tell her the full truth about wanting to see her again, and now it’s too late.

I put my car into reverse and leave the hospital and the Monroes behind. Maybe this is for the best. As soon as Mr. Mayor finds out she got hurt on one of my horses, he’s going to be sending a full-fledged volley toward Horseshoe Holler, and I’m going to have to be ready to defend it. I don’t have time to accomplish some side quest with Juliet.

Or do I?

No matter how loud my logic screams to flee from the woman, my gut—my instincts—continue to contradict it. I’ve trusted those instincts for years and was kept safe and happy because of them. Riding bulls, moving to Autumn Ridge, picking up a hitchhiker on the side of the highway just outside of town.

Right now, my gut is telling me to not let go of Juliet.

Battle or not. Crush or not. Mayor Monroe or not. This girl is something special. I can feel it.

Juliet

I require a couple stitches on my arm, and my foot is only a slight sprain, just like Archer diagnosed.

But I’m not thinking about him anymore.

Two days pass, and I spend my time quietly at home. But on Wednesday, I can finally walk around again—and only with a slight hobble. It’s good timing, seeing as how Dad has found a way for me to get a temporary job working on the festival with Rosie Harper.

“Now listen,” Dad says as we slowly walk toward the Once Upon an Inn Rosie purchased. “I get the feeling Miss Harper doesn’t like asking for help, so make this more about you needing something rather than her.”

“Got it.”

“And just...do whatever you can. The festival is a well-oiled machine. We have supervisors over major categories—activities, entertainment, vendors—so I know things will work out. But with Rosie as the festival director, I have a feeling we aren’t anywhere near the finish line. So put all your business know-how to work. Then you’ll have all this experience before you even graduate.”

I hope my smile looks more convincing than it feels. I still haven’t talked to Dad about dropping out.

When I told him about falling off the horse, he responded more calmly than I thought he would have, though he did go off on just a tiny rampage about how unsafe the stables were.

I asked him if he’d tried to shut them down like Archer had hinted.

“I don’t try to shut anything down, Jules,” he said. “But as mayor, it’s my duty to make sure our community is safe. If there is an unsafe space claiming to be family-friendly, I’m going to do something about it.”

I didn’t tell him I learned more about Archer’s past, though. I didn’t see the point. Just like Dad doesn’t see the point in telling me he’s dating someone.

“You’re bringing this up again?” he said when I mentioned Sharon. “I told you, I don’t need to date anyone. And right now, I frankly don’t have the time.”

I’m going to let it go for now and do some sleuthing on my own. If he won’t tell me the truth, I’m sure I can get to the bottom of things myself.

“Jules?” Dad says, breaking through my thoughts as we reach the inn right next to Town Hall. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Absolutely. Don’t worry about Rosie or the festival. I’ll work that Monroe Magic and get it done.”

“Thank you, honey. What would I do without you?”

Date someone in secret, probably. Oh, wait. He’s already doing that.

I give him a quick hug, then walk into the inn. I’m greeted instantly by dark wood, warm lighting, and the smell of freshly cut flowers. A wooden staircase leads to the second floor, while the check-in area stands directly at my right—a wooden desk with a light countertop that holds a bell and bouquets of flowers.

Rosie comes out of the side room, her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun that looks more messy than bun-y, as she chews on the end of a pencil.