“Only two hours ago,” I say, attempting a breezy laugh.

  I have only been around Lacey a couple times and we have never really spoken to each other, but somehow she puts me on edge. It’s weird. I have never felt intimidated by other girls before, because I have always only ever viewed them as friends rather than competition, but Lacey . . . I just have this strange certainty that she is someone to watch out for, a gut feeling that I have trouble on my hands. “It suits you,” Lacey states with a smile that, bizarrely, seems sincere. She averts her gaze back to Blake, which is clearly no hardship for her. “Are you guys leaving?”

  “Yeah, we’re done here,” Blake replies amiably. “Myles has been left on dog duty for too long.”

  “Ha – he’s on Cindy duty now,” Lacey jokes in a low voice, giving Cindy and Myles a pointed glance.

  I take a very conscious step closer to Blake and nudge my hand against the back of his. “Hey, where are we headed next? Lunch?”

  “Oh, and Mila,” Lacey jumps in quickly before Blake can reply. It’s so minuscule, I almost miss the way she narrows her eyes at my hand near Blake’s. “How are you doing, by the way? You know . . . with everything going on?” Her tone is convincing enough, but the pursing of her lips gives away her faux sympathy.

  “Hey, give me the keys to the truck so I can get out of this heat and crank up some AC,” Tori interrupts, stepping between Lacey and me. She holds her hand out to Blake, and while he passes her his keys without objection, she shoots me a concerned look as though she’s worried that I’m upset. My expression tells her otherwise. I’m okay, really. “C’mon, Savannah. You don’t wanna get heatstroke again,” she insists, spinning around and grabbing Savannah’s arm. “Bye, Lacey. See ya, Cindy.”

  “Anyway,” Blake says as Tori and Savannah trek off across the parking lot in search of his truck. “We’re off to grab some food, but just to warn you, it’s packed in there.” He points over his shoulder to the mall’s entrance. “Enjoy your weekend, Lace.”

  “Wait, Blake,” she says, then runs her fingertips through her ponytail. “Your mom mentioned getting together for dinner soon. We haven’t done it in a while!”

  I keep my expression blank, but inside I am seething because I know exactly what she’s doing right now. But Blake, clearly buying her innocent family-friend performance, is totally oblivious. What if Lacey has dinner with him and LeAnne all the time? How long will it take to make herself a permanent fixture in his life the minute I leave town?

  “Yeah, sounds good,” he responds casually.

  He moves away to retrieve Bailey from Myles, who’s busy flirting with Cindy, but in the few seconds that I am alone with Lacey, I don’t even look at her. Instead, I shove my hand into one of my shopping bags and fish around for a pair of new sunglasses, breaking off the tag before placing them over my eyes and tilting my face to the sun. Neither Lacey nor I say another word, but I sense her watching me.

  “Let’s go, Mila,” Blake says as he steps back by my side with Bailey in tow. “C’mon, Myles!”

  Reluctantly, Myles mutters his goodbyes to Cindy while shooting Blake daggers out of the corner of his eye. However, Lacey can’t resist having the last word before we all leave.

  “Isn’t it the July tailgate next weekend?” she asks Blake. “I missed last month’s, but I promise I won’t miss this one. You were great at the bonfire, by the way, Blake. You should sing at the tailgates too.”

  “Yup, a week today,” Blake confirms, then shyly looks away. “Thanks.”

  Together, Lacey and Cindy head into the mall, and I follow Blake and Myles through the parking lot. Bailey pads along beside us, but I can’t even admire how cute his fluffy tail is wagging in the sun right now.

  In a quiet voice, I ask, “You call her Lace?”

  Blake glances at me. “Huh?”

  “Lace,” I repeat, keeping my voice low as Myles strides on ahead of us. “You call her by a nickname?”

  “I’ve called her that since grade school,” he says with a laugh, then playfully digs his elbow into my ribs as though it’s not a big deal.

  But it is when he’s the only person I’ve heard call her that.

  9

  The sky is growing dark by the time Blake and I head back to the ranch. We have dropped off the others, and Bailey is splayed out asleep on the backseat. When we drive past the ranch’s main entrance, the crowd from this morning is still there, and I keep my head down and pretend to rifle through the glove box until we safely pass. Off-road we continue through the field along the edge of the stone walls of the ranch, and Blake parks the passenger side of the truck as close to the wall as he can get, leaving no space for me to open my door.

  “So,” he starts, putting the truck in park. He lowers the volume of his music until it’s only a quiet hum in the background. “How much trouble do you reckon you’re in?”

  “A lot,” I admit. “But it’s been worth it.”

  From the collective sing-along in the truck, to transforming my hair at the mall, to dancing all afternoon at Honky Tonk Central, to eating dinner on an outdoor patio under the dipping sun at a barbecue joint. Today has been exactly what I needed to feel sane again. And now, returning home, I am too happy to care about the consequences that await me on the other side of these walls.

  “Good,” Blake says. “I’m glad you had fun.”

  I place my hand over his and maintain eye contact with him. “Thanks to you,” I tell him, then laugh. “But you can’t keep me here all night. I can’t open the door, genius.”

  “Climb over.”

  “What?”

  Blake smirks and flips our hands over, interlocking his fingers tightly around mine. “Climb over, Mila.”

  It gets very, very quiet in the truck all of a sudden. Bailey’s soft snores fade away and I can no longer hear the beat of a country song. My breathing intensifying, I release my seatbelt and carefully move my body over the center console, over Blake.

  He clasps my hips and pulls me up hard against him, and I gasp.

  My body is wedged between the steering wheel and Blake’s chest, straddling him. He angles his jaw up toward mine and the scent of spearmint lingers between us. Our mouths are so close, barely inches apart. Am I breathing? I don’t think so. No, seriously, I’m definitely not breathing.

  “I didn’t say it earlier,” Blake murmurs in a husky tone as his dark eyes travel down my body and back up, “but you look so damn hot.” He runs his hand from my hip up to my hair, tucking a section behind my ear.

  “You like the pink?” I ask, my voice a squeak.

  “I like you.”

  And then our lips clash like an exploding firework, all magical and deafening, all bright colors and pretty skies. That’s how kissing Blake makes me feel. I cup his jaw in my hands and lean into him, my skin tingling where his fingers grip the curve of my hip harder. It is the perfect end to a day that I desperately needed, my mouth against Blake’s. Desire pumps through my veins at the feeling of my body this closely pressed to his, and it feels so sexy, straddling him like this when we are completely alone out here. Nothing but a sprawling, overgrown field and a dark sky above us with specks of stars, and that soft tinkle of a perfect country song.

  Breathing hard, we pull apart. I keep Blake’s face steady between my hands as I gaze into his eyes, and the dimples in his cheeks pop like never before when he smiles at me.

  “I have to go,” I whisper, but leaving this truck is the last thing I want to do right now. I want to stay here with Blake all night and forget about everything that awaits me at the Harding Estate.

  Blake presses his forehead to mine, nodding against me.

  We both know that I have to go. I kiss him lightly again, stroke my fingers over his brows, then quickly destroy the intimacy of the moment as I attempt to scramble off him. It’s not exactly attractive, the way I struggle to kick open the truck door and haul myself over Blake, but his soft, breathy laughs only make me laugh too. Even Bailey lifts his head from the backseat, curious to see what the ruckus is.

  “Bye, Bailey,” I say, giving him a little wave. “Goodnight, Blake.”

  I turn away from the door and move to the rear of the truck, preparing myself for scaling the wall.

  “Mila,” Blake whispers. I glance back and find that he’s stepped out of the truck too, one arm resting over the open door with the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen him wear. “How would you feel about maybe officially being my girlfriend?”

  I do a double-take – I had so not expected this. “Your girlfriend?”

  “Yeah,” he says, then looks down at the ground as he kicks at the dirt. “You think I’m good enough to date Everett Harding’s daughter?”

  “You think I’m good enough to date the Mayor of Nashville’s son?” I fire back teasingly.

  “I think,” Blake murmurs, meeting my gaze, “that Mila Harding and Blake Avery are good for each other.”

  There’s no point even trying to hide it – the beaming grin that takes over my face, my cheeks stretched wide, and the fizz of electricity that radiates all through my body. My feet begin moving and I run back to Blake, leaping into his arms and wrapping my legs around him.

  “Yes, yes, yes!”

  Blake stumbles, knocked a little off balance by the impact of me throwing myself at him. He steadies us and locks his arms around me, fitting his hands around my butt. “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, of course I’ll be your girlfriend!”

  And now I’m the bold one, high on giddy excitement, landing a thousand kisses on every inch of his gorgeous face. I think I even plant a kiss on his actual eyeball, but I don’t care, and neither does he by the hearty sound of his smothered laughter.

  Mila Harding has a boyfriend. A boyfriend who plays acoustic guitar and sings country songs. A boyfriend who takes her dancing at honky tonks. A boyfriend who rescues her in his truck from her family ranch. Mila Harding has a boyfriend and that boyfriend is the unbelievably gorgeous Blake Avery.

  “Hey, Miss Mila, what has happened to you?” he jokes as he sets me back down.

  My cheeks blazing – that hasn’t changed – and my heart thundering, I try to relax the smile on my face so that I don’t appear so frenzied, but it’s impossible. “I’m sorry – I don’t know why I just did that.”

  “It’s cute. I like the confident Mila,” Blake reassures me, then he winks. “But I like the nervous one too.”

  “Okay, I’m leaving now,” I tell him, embarrassed, and walk away before I have another lapse in self-control. I heave myself over the truck’s tailgate, climb onto the roof, and hoist myself up onto the wall. Blake watches me in admiration, as though he expected me to need his help again, but I’m riding a total high right now. “Bye, boyfriend!” I call and blow him a final playful kiss.

  Blake blows me one back, then rolls his eyes at our shared cheesiness. “Goodnight, Mila.”

  On the other side of the wall, the ladder from earlier is still there, thankfully. I lower myself down, the ragged stone scraping my hands, and find my footing on the highest rung. And then I descend into the darkness of the Harding Estate as a girl with new memories, new hair, and a new boyfriend.

  I should be more worried than I am, but as I tramp through the field toward the house, I’m practically skipping. I can’t wipe the grin from my face. Any punishment be damned. What are my parents going to do this time? Ship me halfway across the country in a different direction? Ha.

  The motion-sensing security cameras must have detected me already, because the front door bursts open before I’ve even reached the porch. I freeze mid-step and draw my shoulders in tight, peering through half-closed eyes at the fuzzy sight of Mom and Dad while I await the tirade of yelling.

  But they can’t raise their voices out here, not with all those paps outside the gate.

  “Mila Harding,” Mom snaps in the sternest voice I have ever heard her use with me. It’s potent enough to make my stomach drop.

  Dad stomps out onto the porch and leans over the wooden railing, pointing his thumb behind him to the door where Mom waits. “Inside,” he orders. “I mean it, Mila.”

  Keeping my head down, I slink up the steps, past Dad, and through the front door. Dad promptly shuts it behind us all, and that’s when I spot Sheri hovering a few feet away. It’s also now, under the bright light, that my parents notice something different about me.

  “What have you—” Mom gasps as she leans forward to take a section of my hair in her hand and weaves the strands through her fingers. “What have you done?”

  “Just a bit of a refresh.” I shrug. “Don’t you like it?”

  “I do,” Sheri comments with an impressed nod, and Dad fires her a look that could incinerate her on the spot.

  “Never mind your hair. Where the hell have you been?” he demands furiously, stepping into line next to Mom, who is still blinking at my new look in a dazed sort of way. It’s the wrong time to think it, but I don’t mind being yelled at by my parents if they’re doing it together. This feels nicer than having the two of them discuss whether or not Dad’s sordid little affair will ruin our family forever.

  “I went out with my friends,” I answer with another nonchalant shrug.

  “Which friends? I’ll need their names,” I hear Ruben snap from the entry to the kitchen, and I turn to look at him the way I always do – with sheer disdain that his voice has found its way into the conversation.

  “You aren’t supposed to go out with anyone!” Dad yells, but I know that his high levels of frustration are a buildup of everything else going on right now; those deep lines of stress in his forehead aren’t just from worrying about me. “Did you talk to anyone at the gate? Did you say anything?”

  “I didn’t go near the gate.”

  Dad steps back. “What?”

  “Well,” Sheri says, carefully tiptoeing her way into the conversation. “There are other ways to get out of here if someone really wants to. And I’m sure Mila was discreet about it. Right, Mila?”

  “Right,” I agree with a confident nod. Thank God I have Sheri – I don’t know what I would do around here without her on my side.

  “She took off!” Dad cries, narrowing his eyes at Sheri. “I don’t care how she did it. The point is that she did.”

  Mom finally absorbs the shock of my new hairdo and comes back to life. “You couldn’t have answered your phone? You couldn’t have at least let us know where you were?”

  “It’s been turned off,” I say, calm as ever. Inside, I suppress the desire to do a little happy dance right here in the hall. I wonder how Blake is feeling right now as he drives home. Is he singing along to his music a little louder than usual? Is he smiling even when stuck at a red light?

  “New rule,” Ruben cuts in. “Your phone does not get turned off from now on.”

  I roll my eyes, much to the anger of my father.

  “Mila,” he snaps. “This is serious. You can’t just disappear on your own in a city you don’t know at a time like this. What if you’d been spotted?”

  Mom flicks a barely concealed hostile glance at Dad before her eyes dip to the floor and her expression dulls. For a second, she looks far away, like she’d love to be any place but here. I wonder what I’ve missed while I’ve been gone – what conversations have been had, what apologies have been made, what forgiveness, if any, has been given. By the look on Mom’s face at Dad’s reminder of the family crisis at hand, I get the sense that not much progress has been made. The air is still thick with friction, but at least they can seemingly still work together when it comes to being parents. Even if they’re both nothing more than equally exasperated with me.

  “Well, that’s why I changed my hair,” I say with a half-hearted laugh, twirling pink strands around my index finger. I thrust my shopping bags toward Dad. “And look! Lots of new sunglasses to hide behind!”

  “Mila!” Dad’s nostrils are flaring now thanks to my clear lack of care for the severity of the situation. It’s not that I don’t understand – I do, perfectly – it’s just that I really don’t care. I’m so over all of this. “It’s not safe! They’ll hound you out there. You’ll be followed and harassed.”

  I shake my head slowly. “You’re the celebrity, Dad. Not me,” I remind him. And maybe it’s because I can feel Ruben’s infuriated gaze on me, but my steely calm erupts into bitter anger. “I’m not putting my life on pause just because you monumentally messed up.”

  Mom glances at Dad impassively. “Well, I can’t say she’s wrong there, Everett,” she says icily.

  Dad recoils and his shamefaced expression gives me a pang of regret. So maybe that was a little harsh, but it is the truth. And, apparently, an uncomfortable truth at that, because Dad turns and walks away, disappearing upstairs. Ruben tuts at me and follows after him, like Everett Harding’s own faithful disciple.

  “What a day.” Mom wearily runs her hands over her face. “I’m just glad you’re safe, Mila.”

  “I’m sorry I was gone for so long.”

  “We were worried. But Sheri had a feeling you were out with a friend and that you’d eventually show up.”

  “Oh,” I say in a high-pitched tone, turning my back on Mom and facing Sheri instead. I smirk at her. Sheri didn’t have a “feeling” – she has access to the security cameras and probably watched Blake haul me up onto the wall this morning with her very own eyes.

  Sheri refrains from smiling. “Just a hunch,” she says, her tone neutral.

  “I’m taking a shower.” Mom sighs, scraping her hair back and twisting it into a low ponytail before heading upstairs, her steps sluggish.

  Sheri and I watch her until she’s out of sight, then we exchange a look. Sheri is the first to crack, rushing over to me with a beaming smile.