Someone New: sweet contemporary romance (Jilted in Sawyer Creek Book 2)

by Lacy Williams

  Someone New

  Susan Crawford

  Lacy Williams

  Contents

  Exclusive invitation

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  Exclusive invitation

  Someone Borrowed sneak peek

  Also by Susan Crawford

  Also by Lacy Williams

  Exclusive invitation

  Are you a member of Lacy’s or Susan’s email newsletter? Right now you can receive a special gift, available only to newsletters subscribers. Someone Blue is a 50-page novelette and will not be released on any retailer platform—only to newsletter subscribers.

  What happened to Nicholas? Will he ever find his own happily-ever-after?

  Click here to subscribe and get your free gift. Unsubscribe at any time.

  Chapter 1

  Shelby Caine was on a hiatus from stupid decisions.

  After her older brother had to come to her rescue six months ago—and the media storm she'd rained down on herself just before—she'd promised her family there’d be no more shenanigans. No more trouble.

  And she'd stuck to it.

  She'd kept her head down, spent countless hours in the studio recording, played a couple of charity gigs... and been utterly alone. Even when she was surrounded by people.

  Most of her stupid decisions involved people of the opposite sex, so for six months, she'd been lying low. Not dating. Not anything.

  She'd been handling the aloneness fine, up until this weekend. Her brother's wedding.

  In L.A., she could pretend like her screw-ups only affected her. But being here, being home, was a study in guilt.

  She'd arrived last night on a red-eye, then driven a rental from the Austin airport to her mom's house in the tiny town of Sawyer Creek.

  Mom had waited up. Not to make sure Shelby was all right or to spend some girl-time chatting with her only daughter. No, she'd waited up to set Shelby down and ask her to please keep the wedding weekend drama-free.

  Her oldest brother, Wilder, had aimed a few subtle barbs the next morning as they'd convened at the bed-and-breakfast where the wedding would be held. He pretended to couch them in concern, but Shelby knew what he really meant. He was just waiting for her to screw up again.

  And her other brother, Nicholas, was off in his own pre-wedding world. He'd given her a distracted hug before he'd disappeared to deal with some wedding issue.

  In L.A., Shelby had hunkered down and kept her promise.

  But in Sawyer Creek, every one of her failures seemed magnified. The rebellious streak that had caused her fifteen-year-old self to dye her hair purple pulsed beneath her skin with every heartbeat.

  Her brother's soon-to-be-wife, Claire, had asked her to be a bridesmaid, which was fine. She loved Claire.

  But she died inside every time she was forced to smile through one of her family member’s comments.

  Forty-eight hours. If she could make it through the next forty-eight hours, she'd get in her rental car, drive back to Austin, and head home to L.A.

  The wedding rehearsal wasn't until this evening. Mom had asked for Shelby's help setting up later this afternoon, but since it was only mid-morning and Shelby was going stir-crazy prowling around her small B&B room, she decided to go for a walk.

  Not even she could get into trouble on a simple walk, right?

  The bed-and-breakfast was actually a converted two-story farmhouse with a wide wrap-around porch. In another lifetime, Shelby would’ve loved to sit for hours on one of the porch rockers and write music.

  She pointed her sneakers away from the house and headed across the grounds. Past the perfectly-manicured lawn. Past the gazebo where Nicholas and Claire would say their vows tomorrow.

  She ducked into the untamed woods beyond. The proprietor of the B&B was a friend of her mom's and claimed to be cleaning up the property a little at a time, but Shelby liked these woods as-is. They reminded her of lazy summer days when she and her brothers had splashed up and down The Creek—the town of Sawyer Creek’s namesake—and chased fireflies and sometimes roasted marshmallows in their backyard, if Mom didn't have to work that night and was home to supervise.

  Some land needed to stay a little wild. It was prettier that way. There was an untamed beauty here that reached inside and touched her.

  A bramble scratched her arm and drew a small bead of blood. She brushed it away and thought perhaps the land didn’t need to touch her quite that much.

  Wild wasn't bad, though. Wild just was.

  And it didn't always have to be changed.

  Did it?

  The dappled shade gave way as the line of trees broke. She hadn't realized she'd been walking up a gradual incline, but back here, the land cut away from a slight plateau.

  A rusted barbed-wire fence indicated she'd probably reached the end of the B&B property. She paused and looked around. Typical Shelby. She had no idea where she was or how to get back.

  Beyond the fence, a green pasture rolled away to another tree line some hundred yards distant. The land was pretty but marred by the industrial irrigation system, a hunk of metal that ran along a huge circular track over the field. Shelby knew those waterers were necessary when the Texas heat would keep a crop from growing, but still...

  A metallic banging echoed across the open space and made her jump. For the first time, she noticed a red pickup parked at the edge of the field on the other side of the fence. Someone was working on the arm—or spoke or whatever you'd call it—of the irrigator.

  She probably should've turned around and scouted her way back to the B&B before her mom sent out a search party, but her feet carried her forward. She stayed on her side of the fence, because sometimes curiosity meant trouble, but she couldn’t turn back now. She continued along the gentle incline until she stood above the pickup. Here, the plateau fell away, so she had a good look at the man and machine from above.

  Music played from the truck's open windows. Country music. Not her style.

  But maybe, if the man at the irrigator were to look up and see her, she could go unrecognized. He seemed to be fully concentrating on taking the machine apart, anyway. Doubtful he’d notice her.

  Who was she kidding? She couldn't see his face beneath a sweat-stained ball cap, but she'd grown up in Sawyer Creek. Everyone here knew her, or one of her brothers. Or her mom.

  Except... The man turned, and she got a glimpse of his face. She didn't recognize him. He was young, about her age, with wide shoulders and muscular arms that showed how hard he must work on this farm.

  He had a smooth, economical way of moving. It wasn't wild, but it was beautiful somehow, the way he fought with the machine.

  Shelby decided to sit and watch him wrestle the thing. She hadn't decided yet if she was going to talk to him.

  She didn't want trouble, after all.

  But how much trouble could one conversation with a neighbor be, really?

  Just then, something came loose on the machine, and water gushed out. It soaked his torso with brown, muddy sludge.

  An expletive burst from the man’s mouth, and he threw down the big metal wrench he'd been using. Stripping out of his shirt, he knocked his hat off and revealed that what was under his shirt was just as attractive as she’d guessed.

  Farm Boy was hot.

  And Shelby realized she'd stumbled in to big, big
trouble.

  Matt Kincaid heard the soft gasp above the noise of his music and the angry thump of his pulse in his temples.

  He turned and sighted the girl sitting at the top of the hill, her legs hanging over the edge. Ten yards away, maybe. A girl-woman—could be a teenager, could be in her thirties. In general, he wasn't good at reading women's ages, and he was too far away, anyway.

  Whoever she was, she was gawking at him.

  Self-conscious, he strode toward his truck and the extra T-shirt he'd learned to keep on hand. A ranch hand never knew when the property was going to turn on him.

  "You're trespassing," he called out to the girl-woman.

  "No, I'm not!" She pointed to the fence. Because part of the hill had washed away, the fence dangled in mid-air two feet in front of her face. "I'm a guest at the B&B."

  Huh. What was somebody staying at the swanky bed-and-breakfast doing way back here, almost trespassing on the Double S Ranch?

  He ducked his head into his truck and reached behind the seat for his dry shirt. He quickly pulled it over his head.

  He glanced back up at the woman. Was it his imagination, or did she look disappointed?

  Imagination. Had to be.

  "Don't get a lot of visitors from the B&B over this way."

  "That's a shame. It's a great view." One hand waved to encompass the wheat field, but her saucy smirk told him she might be flirting.

  "You don't say," he drawled.

  She grinned.

  He turned his eyes on the field and the line of trees beyond, trying to see from her perspective, but all he saw was the time he'd spent driving the tractor back and forth across the field, then planting, not to mention checking the irrigation system daily. And now fixing the darn thing because of a clogged nozzle.

  He should be glad that someone could get some enjoyment out of it, because he sure as heck didn't.

  "Is this your place?" she asked.

  He took a bottle of water out of his truck and chugged it, then wiped his mouth with his forearm. She was still there when he'd finished, which meant he had to answer. "Ranch belongs to my mom. I work for her."

  "It's the family business, then?"

  He grunted. They were supposed to have been partners. Just one more promise broken.

  Just like he was.

  He squinted up at her. His ball cap was still on the ground behind him, and without it shading his eyes, the June sun was so bright it made it hard to focus.

  That chin-length black hair, cut short with jagged edges that flared around her face, and those ice-blue eyes… She looked familiar. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

  Something flitted across her expression, gone before he could recognize the emotion.

  "I don't think so. I grew up in Sawyer Creek, but left when I was seventeen."

  "Huh. Mom bought the place when I was nineteen. Been here for four years."

  Four years too long.

  "So we don't know each other," she concluded, relief in her voice. "I'm Shelby."

  No last name. Just Shelby.

  "Matt Kincaid." He doffed an imaginary cowboy hat to her.

  Shelby.

  He did know her, or at least he knew of her. Shelby Caine. The pop star who'd come from Sawyer Creek. She'd apparently waitressed for the diner in town. They had a picture of her as a teenager in a white apron on the wall.

  She was also a regular in the tabloids, not that Matt had a habit of reading them. Sometimes there was nothing better to do than to read the headlines while he waited in the check-out line at the Super H. If the magazine covers were true, this girl dated hotshot actors and had meltdown-level shouting matches in public.

  Matt's mother would hate her.

  Which is why he let a slow smile cross his lips. "You know anything about fixing a water wheel?"

  "Not a clue."

  "So you're just gonna sit there and watch me?"

  "Maybe." She offered a flirtatious toss of her head and a bewitching smile.

  He grabbed the tablet he'd been using to view a schematic of the irrigator and turned to the blasted machine. He'd managed to pop off the end and had gotten doused for his effort. Now he needed to see what it was supposed to look like, but he could barely concentrate on the black-and-white image in front of him because his mind raced with possibilities.

  What was Shelby Caine doing here? As far as he knew, she hadn't been back to Sawyer Creek in years.

  She'd shown obvious relief when he hadn't recognized her at first. If he confessed knowing who she was, would she shut down? Run off?

  He set the tablet on the truck's open tailgate and grabbed a flashlight from his toolkit before striding back to the sprinkler arm. "So, what's a pretty girl like you doing so far out in the sticks?" As the words emerged, he wanted to call them right back. Or bash himself in the head with his flashlight. A master flirt he was not.

  She didn't seem to care, though. "Taking a walk."

  Really? Because the line where the ranch and the B&B properties converged was a good hike from the inn. "Running away from somebody?"

  She muttered something he couldn't hear, and he shot a look over his shoulder.

  "What was that?" he asked.

  She shook her head. "I started out taking a walk, but I might've gotten myself lost. Bad sense of direction."

  Perfect. "You need a ride back to civilization?"

  "I don't get into vehicles with strangers," she said coyly.

  "Aw, don't be like that. We're neighbors."

  She raised one expressive eyebrow. "I'm only staying for a couple of days."

  "Semantics."

  "Besides, it looks like you've got a lot of work to do here."

  Story of his life. He frowned as he stared down at the metal parts strewn at his feet. "Well, when you get your fill of staring at my hot bod, you can follow the fence line. It'll take you back to where you need to go."

  A full smile spread across her face. "Chivalrous to the end."

  Matt didn't usually think of himself as having a hot bod. On the other hand, he didn't usually think of himself as chivalrous, either. Doormat, sometimes. Pushover, usually.

  He'd been feeling it for a while—the winds of change, urging him to get out.

  Was meeting Shelby his chance? And if so, what was he supposed to do about it?

  It was incredibly refreshing to meet someone who didn't know who she was. Who didn't have an agenda.

  Shelby would never have expected to find anonymity in Sawyer Creek, but Farm Boy Matt sure seemed sequestered out here. And he listened to country music.

  She really liked the way he looked at her—appreciative but without expectation—and he seemed like the kind of guy who would be trouble-free. Just what she needed.

  Taking him up on his invitation, she lingered and watched as he worked on his machine. He knelt on the ground to look up into the long metal pipe, then reached a hand inside.

  He was obviously a hard worker. His attention had hardly been diverted, and Shelby considered herself a fairly big distraction. She'd bet her mom knew him. Would probably approve.

  What if she showed up with a date tomorrow? A boring one. A guy nobody could give the side-eye.

  Maybe then they'd lay off the constant guilt trips and let her relax. Not that there would be a lot of relaxing, since she'd be standing up front as a bridesmaid during the ceremony.

  It was straight up exhausting trying not to be the center of attention.

  Plus, he was cute. So, sue her if a cute guy caught her interest.

  She glanced at her watch. Mom would be looking for her soon. Probably Wilder, too.

  But—"You work all day and all night?" she called.

  Matt looked up and shrugged. What'd that mean?

  She stood and dusted off the seat of her shorts. "I have a thing later"—wedding rehearsal—"but maybe after we could do something fun."

  She knew the sidewalks in town rolled up at dusk, so she couldn't imagine what fun might be. And while she liked Cl
aire, the two weren't that close. She'd only asked Shelby to be a bridesmaid because she was Nick's family. It wasn't as if Claire would want to hang out tonight after the rehearsal. And Shelby really didn't want to stay in her room all alone.

  Matt considered her, one hand still on the machine, his tools seemingly forgotten. "I'd like that." Another of those devastating, lazy smiles crossed his tanned face, and her stomach did a slow flip.

  "What's your number?" She pulled her phone from her pocket and typed in the digits as he called them out, then quickly texted him a waving emoji so he'd have her number, too.

  Backing away from the drop-off, she said, "Bye, Farm Boy."

  "It's Matt!"

  His shout drifted over the hill, and she grinned to herself as she picked her way through tall grass and headed for the shade of the woods. The last thing she needed was a sunburn to go with her bridesmaid's dress.

  Now... she could only hope she’d made enough of an impression that Matt would text her back.

  Chapter 2

  When Shelby finally found her way out of the woods, her hair was in shambles from low-hanging tree branches, and her legs were so scratched, she was thankful her dress for the wedding was floor-length.

  Wilder had been searching for her, at their mom's bidding. The two of them had been tasked with setting up white chairs in two orderly sections separated by a wide aisle on the lawn.

  They worked for nearly an hour. By the time they were finished, she was drenched with sweat.

  Wilder hovered while Shelby took cover in the gazebo, trying to cool off in the shade. She’d forgotten how sticky Texas could be. She glanced at her phone. Still no message from Farm Boy.

  She'd thought for sure she'd hooked him. There was definite interest in his eyes. Unless... did he have a girlfriend? Or a wife? She hadn't even checked for a ring. Shelby had been through that drama once before, trusting that the guy was single. She'd almost been a home wrecker and had gotten slapped upside the face in the middle of a coffee shop for her trouble. That tabloid photo and story had made the rounds for weeks too long.