The Virgin Next Door (Stud Ranch)

Enough. Calla’s entire body was shaking as she shoved the bathroom door open. She refused to let Bethany know how well her words hit target.

Calla held her head high as she walked through the bar to the counter. Hey look, God answered some prayers. Liam was nowhere in sight as she walked over to her still mostly full beer mug.

“Hey Bubba,” she said when she got to her stool, “I’m gonna cash out my tab.” She pulled out her phone and clicked on the Uber app. Hawthorne had a total of two Uber drivers, but Wayne only drove on weekends. Tonight there’d only be Carl and he liked to be in bed by eleven. It was ten-thirty, so she was pushing it.

She clicked through the app. Okay, Carl was ten minutes out.

“Heading home so soon?” Bubba ran his hand down his long Santa like beard in the habitual way he had that Calla was sure violated some health code.

She smirked. “Been warming this stool since dinnertime.”

Bubba leaned his elbows on the bar. “Prettiest face gracing my counter tonight.”

Calla rolled her eyes. Bubba sure could tell a whopper with a straight face. “My tab?”

“All right, all right, if you’re in a hip and a hurry.” He pushed off the bar.

He came back with her credit card and a receipt to sign. She signed it and gave a generous tip. She couldn’t afford it, or the drink for that matter, but what the hell. Bubba had been great company while they watched the game he had on. She’d almost been distracted from her shit life for awhile and that was worth throwing away a little money she didn’t have to spend, right?

“Don’t forget to get your fortune,” Bubba said, fishing a fortune cookie out of the large jar he had set up beside his cash register.

Calla lifted an eyebrow. “You do realize this joint isn’t a Chinese restaurant, right?”

“What? My Susie loves reading her horoscope every morning. And I’m always looking for little ways to jazz things up around here.” He grinned, his ruddy cheeks pink and his coffee-stained teeth shining.

“Hey, I’ll take all the luck I can get,” Calla took the fortune cookie from him.

“Have a good night, gorgeous.”

Calla rolled her eyes again. She heard a loud laugh from the far end of the bar that sounded a lot like Liam’s—a fact she hated that she knew, and decided to wait for Carl outside. It wasn’t just Liam. All night everyone had been flashing her pitying looks. Town the size of Hawthorne, everyone knew everyone else’s business. She was sure she and Daddy had been a hot gossip topic lately.

She shoved the fortune cookie in her pocket and headed for the door.

“Night, Cal,” a couple people called out as she walked by. She just nodded, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

She kept her back straight, chin up until she was out of the bar. Once she was out of sight of everyone, though, she collapsed back against the brick wall. She squeezed her eyes shut as the events of earlier that morning flashed for the hundredth time.

Today was the hardest since she’d moved Dad into the nursing home six months ago. The ranch was so in debt they’d barely come out of the deal with enough to secure his long-term care. Huntington’s Disease was degenerative and he only got worse as the years passed. But being so cash-strapped also meant that in addition to her truck, she’d had to sell her horse.

She’d taken Prissy out for one last ride before Chris Mendoza, a local trainer she’d sold him to, came to pick her up.

“Okay, girl.” Calla had scratched down Prissy’s long nose. “One last ride.”

It was a warm June afternoon but Calla felt cold through and through. She smiled though, not wanting Prissy to pick up on her mood.

Prissy snorted and nudged Calla with her nose. Calla wasn’t fooling her. Prissy knew something was off.

“Can’t get anything past you, can I, Priss?”

Calla ran her hands along Prissy’s sleek shoulder and flank, not wanting to lose a single second of contact during the short time she had left with her beloved mare. Her best friend.

Calla lifted a foot in the stirrups and then hiked herself up. Prissy neighed, throwing her head and stepping forward. Calla shifted her weight and got her seat right in time.

“Whoa, whoa, girl. What is it?”

But as Calla looked down the long road that led to her dad’s ranch, her stomach sank.

No. Not Dad’s ranch anymore.

She’d signed the papers just yesterday finalizing the sale. Ned Cunningham hadn’t made any bones about the fact that he expected Calla off the property within twenty-four hours and that anything she left behind was forfeit.

Calla swallowed as she watched the progress of the truck and trailer rig. At least the Cunninghams weren’t getting Prissy. The thought of Bethany owning Prissy was more than Calla could take. So she’d made arrangements with Chris, who was always looking for good barrel racing horses. Since Prissy was getting older, Calla had taken a loss on her. But it was better than that witch Bethany getting her.