Best Friend's Ex Box Set

Cheyenne chewed on her bottom lip as she ran a hand through the dark strands of her hair nervously. “Things just keep happening is all. I’ll be fine, though. You won’t have to worry about me in a few weeks.”

“That’s the thing though,” I said, taking a step towards her. “I will worry about you when you leave. That’s not going to change. I do care about you.”

“I care about you too,” she replied cautiously. “We agreed to let things remain friendly between us, Colt. You don’t have to worry about me. You need to keep an eye on Tiffany.”

“I am keeping an eye on her. I’d like to keep an eye on you too.”

“That isn’t necessary, Colt. I can take care of myself.”

A determined glint filled her eyes. I clenched my teeth to control the urge to kiss her senseless until the both of us gave in without a fight. Before I could say anything else, a voice slurred out, “Can’t say that I’m surprised by this sight.”

Bill Coates stumbled from the front entrance of the Iron Stallion. His hair was greasy and matted like before, while his eyes were bloodshot and puffy. I took in the dark circles surrounding Bill’s eyes with disgust.

“What are you doing in my business?” I demanded.

Cheyenne tensed up next to me as she moved towards the passenger side of her truck. She didn’t spare Bill Coates a glance while she opened the door to hop in.

“Oh, don’t run away from your sweetheart, honey,” Bill called out as the door slammed shut.

The truck engine fired up a second later before Cheyenne backed out of her parking spot to drive away. I listened to the truck tires as they spun on the gravel before turning to address Bill. The older man swayed unsteadily on his feet and used the light pole to keep himself steady.

“It’s funny how she can’t handle confrontations with me anymore,” Bill said. “She wasn’t afraid of me the days up to the fire.”

“That’s because we all know you did it,” I snapped, brushing by Bill to head to front doors of the Iron Stallion. “You’re wrong, by the way. The insurance check has doesn’t cover all the damage to the fire. Your theory is wrong.”

“Maybe it’s divine retribution for a thief. That’s what she is—a damned thief!”

I stopped short of opening the door to look over at Bill while he struggled to stay upright with the light pole. “How is she a thief?” I asked in disbelief. “You abused your stallion, Bill. You abandoned the horse at Jacob’s because you didn’t want to pay the bill. You lost your horse by all definitions.”

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sp; “Eh.” Bill shrugged his shoulders at that. “There are worse than things that God can do to a man than kill his horse. There are worse things to lose than a horse.”

“I’m pretty sure that God looks down upon arson or hurting one of his creations if you want to get technical.”

“Since when are you a religious man?”

“Since you brought the subject up,” I said. “What else did you want to say to me? I have somewhere to be.”

“That your bartender waters down your drinks in there,” Bill spat out and turned to wobble down the sidewalk. “What sort of business waters down their drinks?”

“You better keep your nose clean, Bill,” I called out to him, opening the front doors. “Don’t want to bring any more unwanted attention to yourself.”

“Robert has cleared my name.” He stopped to turn around. Sweat gathered on his upper lip. “In case you haven’t heard, the case is closed. My name was cleared because I had nothing to do with it, so I’d appreciate it if your girlfriend would stop accusing me.”

I didn’t even bother correcting the last part as Bill turned the corner. I had no idea where he was going, but I stepped inside the Iron Stallion to scan the crowded bar and dining room area. That same sense of dread filled me again. No matter what Cheyenne said or did, she had marked herself as an enemy of Bill.

My parents had marked themselves as enemy of Bill long ago. My horse had paid the price for it, and there was no doubt in my heart that Cheyenne’s price had been the barn. The only problem was that everyone knew why, but not how. That was the biggest problem.

Chapter Fifteen

Cheyenne

It felt strange coming back to my place after spending the past few weeks at the Smith ranch. It was quiet. Eerily quiet without the usual sounds of horses in the distance, or even the chatter of nature in the evergreen pines beyond the property line. A chill went up my spine while I walked up the dirt pathway to the front porch. I didn’t care what anyone else said about Bill Coates. He had something to do with the charred remains of my barn on the ground. He was the reason why my safe place no longer felt safe.

The cold autumn air nipped at the back of my neck when I opened the front door, pushing aside the pile of mail that the mailman had shoved through the slot.

Rifling through the envelopes, I separated the junk mail from the important pieces of mail that included bills and anything that dealt with the sanctuary. A few adoptions requests had come through the mail—a small flicker of hope in the darkness. Other than that, bills were late and unpaid. The electricity company had sent a disconnect notice last week, which explained why the lights didn’t click on when I reached for them and why there was no hum of the kitchen fridge.