The following morning, Blake wakes up feeling like he'd been run over by one of his own tractors...emotionally speaking, anyway.
He lies still for a while, eyes fixed on the ceiling beams of the ranch house. Early light slipped through the curtains in soft golden streaks, warm but not quite enough to ease the persistent ache in his chest. It had taken root somewhere between Emma's smile and the quiet moment they'd shared over coffee on his porch.
Nothing about the past few days had followed the script. He hadn't planned to rear-end a stranger, get blindsided by a flying scarf, argue on a sidewalk, or split a croissant on a hospital bench with a woman his dog clearly considered destiny.
He definitely hadn't planned on morning coffee turning into something that felt dangerously close to hope.
And yet.
Blake sighs, rolling onto his side. At the foot of the bed, Rex gives a low, lazy chuff.
"You're up too, huh?" Blake mutters, dragging a hand through his hair.
Rex stretches like a prince, tail thumping twice, then yawns…utterly unbothered.
"Glad one of us slept easy."
Blake sits up, rubs his face and tries to scrub away the memory of Emma's eyes and that laugh when she'd called his driving record a casualty of accessory-related negligence.
Damn scarf.
Damn woman.
Damn feelings.
Getting up and ready for the day ahead…
He is just finishing feeding the chickens and is halfway through mucking out the horse stalls when he hears it.
That unmistakable, slightly wheezy rattle of a Jeep with three different shades of paint and a personality of its own.
Blake turns just as Megan, his sister, rolls into the yard, her signature giant sunglasses pushing her messy braid back like some kind of ranch-goddess-turned-vet-fashionista.
"Aw, hell," he mutters under his breath.
She hops out, boots kicking up dust as she makes a beeline for him, her phone already in hand and a mischievous grin plastering on her face.
"Blake," she calls out. "You old softie, you made the town gossip column and it's not even noon!"
"I swear, Meg, if you brought a copy of the town paper I will feed it to the goats."
"Oh please, the goats wouldn't digest this juicy story. It's gone viral, in Prairie Ridge terms." She waves her phone. "Besides, it's all digital nowadays. You're a local legend now. 'Rancher loses clean driving record to airborne fashion piece…a possible romance blooming.'"
Blake turns back to the stall. "You drove all the way out here just to annoy me?"
"No. Duke sent me to check on you." She fibs, placing her husband under the bus. "And I wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth. Not from Doris, who told Patty, who told Lisa at the bakery, who called me in the middle of surgery, by the way, to tell me you were spotted flirting with a dark-haired woman with blue eyes, while your old truck was being towed into oblivion."
"I wasn't flirting."
"Blake, you had a croissant with her."
"So?"
"In small-town language, that's third base."
He shoots her a look over his shoulder. "Remind me again how Duke puts up with you."
"He thinks I'm cute and I do all his stitches when he falls off things." Megan leans against a post. "So, who is she? Emma, right?"
"She's new. Physiotherapist. Moved in a few months back and helps out at the café part-time. Lives over the shop with her roommate."
"Do we like her?"
"Rex does."
Megan gasps dramatically. "No. Rex? The Emotional Gatekeeper of Castle McAllister? Our Rex...Rex?"
"He practically rolled over and showed her his belly."
"Then it's settled. She's The One."
Blake groans and drags a hand down his face. "You're insufferable."
Megan softens. "Look, I know it's been a rough few years. Carrie really messed you up."
He flinches at his ex's name. "Let's not go there."
"I'm not judging. I'm just saying...maybe it's okay to feel something again."
He doesn't respond, instead focusing very intently on stacking a bale of hay.
Megan watches him for a minute longer, then adds gently, "We're doing a cookout Sunday. Duke's idea, not mine, I swear. You should come. A lot of people have been invited, it would be great to socialize and just get away from it all. But I think you should come."
Blake pauses. "Is Mom gonna be there?"
"Oh, of course. She's already planning the guest list and pre-approving potato salads."
He groans, but softer this time. "I'll think about it."
Megan beams and gives Rex one last pat before hopping back into her Jeep. "Think fast, big brother. Prairie Ridge doesn't wait."
Meanwhile, across town...
Emma is hunched over a steaming mug of tea, still in her pajamas, when her best friend and roommate Tory comes stomping into the apartment above the café holding her phone like it had personally betrayed her.
"Oh. My. God!"
Emma blinks. "What? Did the espresso machine explode?"
"Worse." Tory tosses herself onto the couch beside her. "You are officially the talk of the town. You're not even from here and you have already starred in a scandalous roadside romance!"
Emma frowns. "That's a wild sentence. Also, it wasn't a romance. It was a car crash."
"And yet!" Tory shoves the phone in her face. "Listen to this: 'Sources say the newcomer, a physiotherapist, was seen tending to the secretive, grumpy and elusive Rancher Blake McAllister's dog while sharing a sweet moment over coffee and pastries. Could love be brewing?'"
Emma's face turns crimson. "I wasn't tending...the dog is friendly! Who the hell writes this stuff anyways?"
"I don't know, but they have a gift."
Emma buries her face in her hands. "Oh God. I'm going to die. This is a very "everybody knows your business" type of town. They'll probably just kill me with passive-aggressive pie and pamphlets."
Tory grins. "You know this means we have to go back to the café today. You'll need to face the music."
"I'll be drowned in sweet tea."
"And gossipy smiles."
Emma groans. "Do I at least look cute when being judged?"
"You always look cute. Especially when blushing. Which you will be doing. An awful lot in the future, according to the gossip mill."
Emma sighs, but she is smiling too. "He really was kind of...grumpy. But in a hot way. Like, if a thundercloud were in a cowboy calendar."
"Blake McAllister is very calendar-worthy," Tory agrees.
Emma leans back. "And Rex. Oh my God. That dog. He climbed into my soul."
"So what you're saying is...you're doomed."
Emma grins. "Completely."