The Rancher's Redemption

“It’s fine.” She nodded stiffly. “I have to get back now.”

“Look, now that we’ve established that I’m a fool who should’ve apologized to you all those years ago, and not let it come between us, can we really put it behind us, and be friends again?”

She bit her lip and looked away from him. “I don’t know.”

“Can you at least think about it?” Adam wasn’t sure why he was practically begging her to make things right for them, but he needed to say it. She’d been his best friend before he’d fallen for Louisa and he’d let her down. “I’d appreciate it.”

She finally looked up at him. “I shouldn’t have slapped you.”

“Yeah, you should.” He touched his cheek. “I was an insensitive jerk. I deserved it.”

“Maybe you did, but I’m still not proud of myself.” Lizzie glanced back toward the kitchen. “I really do have to go.”

“Okay, as long as we’re good now?” he asked. “Maybe I can come in one day, and we can have coffee together or something?”

“Sure.” She nodded. “Good-bye, Adam.”

He stayed where she’d left him, his gaze on the back door of the café as it dawned on him that she had no intention of ever letting him get close to her again. The fact that it bothered him was a surprise because what had he expected? He’d not only trodden all over her emotions during their initial encounter, but now he’d done it again.

He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. He sucked at anything emotional. Maybe Lizzie was right and he should just stick his head back in the sand and shut the hell up. He certainly wasn’t making anything better.

One thing he did know was that Louisa would’ve been furious with him for turning against their best friend. All those years he and Lizzie could’ve grieved together, destroyed by one stupid, desperate act of two people barely out of their teens. An act he’d turned into yet another cudgel to beat himself up with and blame Lizzie for. Was he some kind of fricking martyr? Did he enjoy wallowing in his own pain?

Adam cursed under his breath and walked back onto Main Street where he’d parked his truck. Maybe that was the real reason why he’d stayed away from Lizzie—because she’d be quick to point out his bullshit arguments. He slowed as he approached the vehicle where Coretta Smith was taking a picture of his license plate number.

“Can I help you with something?” He raised his voice above the sound of the traffic, making her jump and turn to face him.

“There’s nothing I need to say to you, young man.”

“Then why are you taking pictures of my truck?”

“Evidence.”

He blinked at her. “Evidence of what?”

“Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing with Lizzie Taylor? I saw your truck parked outside her apartment last night.”

“I still don’t see what any of it has to do with you, ma’am.”

“Because of the child.” She glared at him. “Lizzie’s a bad mother. Someone ought to be reporting her to the authorities.”

“And that someone is you?”

“Who else has a better right?”

“I’m not following here,” Adam said. “Would you like to come down to Nate Turner’s place of work so we can continue our discussion? I’m fairly sure there are laws about stalking and prank calls.”

Coretta stuffed her phone in her bag. “You can do what you want. I have to get home and make sure that poor child is not being neglected at Gabby’s house.”

Before Adam could speak again, she crossed the street and set off toward her house. He frowned after her and then made a reluctant decision.

Yvonne greeted his reappearance in her café with a raised eyebrow. “You again?”

Lizzie had just come out of the kitchen and almost backed up when she saw him. He spoke directly to her.

“I just caught Coretta taking pictures of my truck.”

“Oh, God, no . . .” Lizzie sighed. “She’s getting completely out of hand. How on earth did she justify that?”

Adam lowered his voice and moved closer. “I think we should talk to Nate.”